We often reach those breaking points after enduring periods of temporary insanity. The past week has been one of those such cases.
With two (large) tests in one week and one coming up tomorrow (yes, tomorrow, as in less than 8 hours away...Eight. Hours. Away.) my body starts to rebel against any current stress.
Oh, you have a chapter to read? Hey, let's make your face break out. That way, you can't go hang out with anyone, or shouldn't.
You want to relax by going to the gym? Hold on, I'm gonna make you sick while you're there (I can't believe you went there anyway, Rudolph)
You have no time for meals! Frosting for lunch, pop-tarts for dinner, and...McDonald's, you need McDonald's right now. It's 2:30am? Even better.
Forget sleeping, sleeping is for the living. You've crossed into a new realm sir.
Honestly, I'm a little fed up with it. Thankfully my face decided to calm down after I took my final for one class two days ago but I don't think the sleep will come until the one tomorrow is over.
So in the meantime, I stay up to ungodly hours eating the equivalent of obesity on a plate while being in a state of undress.
I decided momentarily to try and eat real food for the first time in 40 hours and cook.
I reach for the rice, my grip falters, and like an utterly dramatic movie it falls in slow motion to the floor with a crash. Rice, rice everywhere. Flying through the air like some tragic accident, there's even screaming.
From me. I'M YELLING AT THE RICE. I've come to that aforementioned breaking point and my mind is bouncing around and getting lost in cracks like the rice on the floor.
"AH, WHY RICE!? WHY?!" the words flying from my mouth.
I stare at the pieces on the floor, grudgingly find the broom, and begin to pick my thoughts off the floor. Each sweep and some of these distractions make their way into the garbage.
I'm distracted, even the universe is trying to thwart me.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
I'm A Terrible Parent: My Decline Into Spinsterhood
My latest mental breakdown has been pretending to be a parent. Hold on guys, put down your phones and hang up on Amber alert, I did not take or receive some child in any way. If you were just packing up your child to send to me, stop that as well. So help me, if I wake up with one child in my backyard/mail slot I will be rather upset. Almost as upset as the time Wendy's only gave me 4 love nuggets* in stead of 5. Dark days those were... *shudder*
But my food woes aside, I've recently been wise enough to "adopt" a small kitten. I can almost hear the surprise from...nobody. Yes, I know, what else does a recluse need more than a stereotype pet for a pet. Friends, the answer is "What is friends?"
This is, of course, the perfect place to talk about this subject. I mean, the internet LOVES cats.
Anyways, after having this thing for some time now, I feel that my parental responsibilities are lacking:
I never monitor his eating habits so I'm enabling his oncoming obesity, I often let him eat the spiders when I'm too scared to squish them, and at certain times of the night he might be flying through the air after biting my feet--with love of course, he's flying through the air with love...and profanities flying from my mouth.**
"Where are your poor parenting skills?" you might ask. I know, I know, I'm pretty amazing at my job of keeping a small creature alive, but it's not all fun and games.
I have recently tried training him not to bite destroy ______ (insert anything that fits into mouth) by spraying him with a spray bottle filled with water. It usually goes like this: "Don't bite that." *squirt* *bite bite* "I said no!" *squirt squirt* *bitebitebitebite* "NO YOU LITTLE F**KER!" *squirt squirt squirt* Then he stops, looks at me with a look that says, "Really? You're gonna spray me with water? Nice try SUCKA'"--where he continues to gnaw on my foot.
Because of these tendencies, this creature has earned some nicknames. After spending time with my brother-in-law, he earned the name "Overseer Kitty" due to his dictator like qualities; my brother gave him the middle name "Figaro"; I lovingly call him "Bitch Cat, Demon, Mussolini," and "Thing that vomits on my floor and keeps me up at night," or "TTVOMFAKMUP"...I usually stick with the former.
You must be thinking to yourself, "Gee, I really MUST have one of these things in my life. In fact, send me ten--no TWENTY!" Hold on cowboy, don't you know about the threshold of catitude? It goes something like this:
One Cat: The beginning of your declining social life. You still go outside and socialize and the sun is still a familiar sight.
Two Cats: Alright, you're starting to tread on thin ice bud. You still see some need for social interaction, primarily the checker at the grocery store--I mean, you gotta eat. Hm, it's pretty bright outside today, better stay inside.
Three Cats: Woah there buddy, you're neck deep now. I guess I have enough food for the week, so let's have a Netflix marathon instead of shopping. I did laundry...three weeks ago? It's clean enough. A stray ray of sunlight filters through your blinds and you sparkle...odd.
Four or more: You've heard rumors of the outside world, but can't really remember what people look like, much less yourself. Legend of the sun have been heard, but you don't believe it actually exists. You often whisper things like, "precious..." and you skulk around the house in nothing but your underoos. Your neighbors often call the police to check to see if you've been eaten by the cats yet; a typical Tuesday.
So I jest (slightly), but I have taken my first step down the stairs of spinsterhood. We all know that after that first step, you trip, break your hip, and hit every other stair on the way down. I think the third step is an abundance of thick woven sweaters (Check!).
I guess occasionally this thing (who is named Moose for no particular reason) is cute and provides some form of entertainment now and then, so I guess I'll keep him around and see how it goes. Like I've said before, someone just call the ambulance before the cat eats me. We all know he's already tried.
*Why are they "love nuggets?" you ask. Well you see, in my high school days of depravity, Wendy's was a staple food in my life. Getting chicken nuggets every time we went was not even a question so my good friend Austin decided there must be some sort of secret ingredient. Yes, it was love. The forlorn looking middle-aged woman behind the counter had made those nuggets with love. Thus they were love nuggets ever since. Yes, I have accidentally said that to the employee before when ordering.
**I know that this isn't talked about often, but can we throw babies in the air when they're misbehaving? I mean, come on guys, it would probably work on some level. No? Well, I tried to incorporate some new parenting techniques into your lives. Sorry for trying to be a modern parent.
But my food woes aside, I've recently been wise enough to "adopt" a small kitten. I can almost hear the surprise from...nobody. Yes, I know, what else does a recluse need more than a stereotype pet for a pet. Friends, the answer is "What is friends?"
This is, of course, the perfect place to talk about this subject. I mean, the internet LOVES cats.
Anyways, after having this thing for some time now, I feel that my parental responsibilities are lacking:
 |
| My degenerate child ready to mess you up |
"Where are your poor parenting skills?" you might ask. I know, I know, I'm pretty amazing at my job of keeping a small creature alive, but it's not all fun and games.
I have recently tried training him not to bite destroy ______ (insert anything that fits into mouth) by spraying him with a spray bottle filled with water. It usually goes like this: "Don't bite that." *squirt* *bite bite* "I said no!" *squirt squirt* *bitebitebitebite* "NO YOU LITTLE F**KER!" *squirt squirt squirt* Then he stops, looks at me with a look that says, "Really? You're gonna spray me with water? Nice try SUCKA'"--where he continues to gnaw on my foot.
Because of these tendencies, this creature has earned some nicknames. After spending time with my brother-in-law, he earned the name "Overseer Kitty" due to his dictator like qualities; my brother gave him the middle name "Figaro"; I lovingly call him "Bitch Cat, Demon, Mussolini," and "Thing that vomits on my floor and keeps me up at night," or "TTVOMFAKMUP"...I usually stick with the former.
You must be thinking to yourself, "Gee, I really MUST have one of these things in my life. In fact, send me ten--no TWENTY!" Hold on cowboy, don't you know about the threshold of catitude? It goes something like this:
One Cat: The beginning of your declining social life. You still go outside and socialize and the sun is still a familiar sight.
Two Cats: Alright, you're starting to tread on thin ice bud. You still see some need for social interaction, primarily the checker at the grocery store--I mean, you gotta eat. Hm, it's pretty bright outside today, better stay inside.
Three Cats: Woah there buddy, you're neck deep now. I guess I have enough food for the week, so let's have a Netflix marathon instead of shopping. I did laundry...three weeks ago? It's clean enough. A stray ray of sunlight filters through your blinds and you sparkle...odd.
Four or more: You've heard rumors of the outside world, but can't really remember what people look like, much less yourself. Legend of the sun have been heard, but you don't believe it actually exists. You often whisper things like, "precious..." and you skulk around the house in nothing but your underoos. Your neighbors often call the police to check to see if you've been eaten by the cats yet; a typical Tuesday.
So I jest (slightly), but I have taken my first step down the stairs of spinsterhood. We all know that after that first step, you trip, break your hip, and hit every other stair on the way down. I think the third step is an abundance of thick woven sweaters (Check!).
I guess occasionally this thing (who is named Moose for no particular reason) is cute and provides some form of entertainment now and then, so I guess I'll keep him around and see how it goes. Like I've said before, someone just call the ambulance before the cat eats me. We all know he's already tried.
*Why are they "love nuggets?" you ask. Well you see, in my high school days of depravity, Wendy's was a staple food in my life. Getting chicken nuggets every time we went was not even a question so my good friend Austin decided there must be some sort of secret ingredient. Yes, it was love. The forlorn looking middle-aged woman behind the counter had made those nuggets with love. Thus they were love nuggets ever since. Yes, I have accidentally said that to the employee before when ordering.
**I know that this isn't talked about often, but can we throw babies in the air when they're misbehaving? I mean, come on guys, it would probably work on some level. No? Well, I tried to incorporate some new parenting techniques into your lives. Sorry for trying to be a modern parent.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Awkward Wednesdays #2: But...I Just Don't Know...
One fateful semester, I decided to take a business class. Business & Society to be exact. Mostly I took it to see if dabbling in business was anything that interested me at all.
*Spoiler Alert*
It wasn't. If anything it made me less inclined to take any more business classes from then on (even though I then took accounting the subsequent semester, but that's another story).
So like all classes you hate (i.e. basically most classes, don't lie to yourself), you usually make those "class friends" You know, the kids you sit around that you'll chuckle with when the instructor says something off-color or strange. Everything is very surface but it makes class more tolerable. In this class particular, I sat next to a really chatty guy and a semi-quiet guy like myself.
I've actually talked about chatty before here, he's just a bunch of fun.
Anyways, on this particular day I had arrived to class five minutes early and had settled into my usual seat next to semi-quiet guy. Not soon after, our chatty RM quickly came into the room and looked at me, twitching a little bit.
"Dude, I kind of have to pee."
Dear lord, why is he telling me this? "...Well, why don't you just go? We have 5 minutes."
"Yeah, but I don't know if it's one of those times where you think you have to go but you really don't."
"Well, you probably shouldn't risk it then, just go to the bathroom and see." Really, I shouldn't have to be telling you this. By this point in your life, you should have mastered proper bathroom etiquette.
"Yeah but...but I just don't know. It's so far away, I don't want to waste all that time"
"Why are you telling me this?! Just go to the bathroom, it's maybe 50 feet away!" Maybe on the way he'll meet his soul mate, girl who doesn't know if she's on her period or not.
"AH, fine I'll do it, please let there be a lot."
"Good luck"
*2 minutes later*
"Dude, it wasn't a false alarm, thanks. It just kept going and goi--"
"--you're gross."
But really, false alarms are no joking matter. Please, turn on the Sarah McLachlan music now and listen. When you have a false alarm to urinate, you must--and I mean MUST, tell everyone around you. Only with their proper judgment will you know if you should move your body to a restroom and release your bladder. Otherwise, your rogue actions may cause severe trauma in your life. You'll have to pee knowing your actions weren't known by others. For shame.
End music.
*Spoiler Alert*
It wasn't. If anything it made me less inclined to take any more business classes from then on (even though I then took accounting the subsequent semester, but that's another story).
So like all classes you hate (i.e. basically most classes, don't lie to yourself), you usually make those "class friends" You know, the kids you sit around that you'll chuckle with when the instructor says something off-color or strange. Everything is very surface but it makes class more tolerable. In this class particular, I sat next to a really chatty guy and a semi-quiet guy like myself.
I've actually talked about chatty before here, he's just a bunch of fun.
Anyways, on this particular day I had arrived to class five minutes early and had settled into my usual seat next to semi-quiet guy. Not soon after, our chatty RM quickly came into the room and looked at me, twitching a little bit.
"Dude, I kind of have to pee."
Dear lord, why is he telling me this? "...Well, why don't you just go? We have 5 minutes."
"Yeah, but I don't know if it's one of those times where you think you have to go but you really don't."
"Well, you probably shouldn't risk it then, just go to the bathroom and see." Really, I shouldn't have to be telling you this. By this point in your life, you should have mastered proper bathroom etiquette.
| See this? It's your porcelain friend. |
"Yeah but...but I just don't know. It's so far away, I don't want to waste all that time"
"Why are you telling me this?! Just go to the bathroom, it's maybe 50 feet away!" Maybe on the way he'll meet his soul mate, girl who doesn't know if she's on her period or not.
"AH, fine I'll do it, please let there be a lot."
"Good luck"
*2 minutes later*
"Dude, it wasn't a false alarm, thanks. It just kept going and goi--"
"--you're gross."
But really, false alarms are no joking matter. Please, turn on the Sarah McLachlan music now and listen. When you have a false alarm to urinate, you must--and I mean MUST, tell everyone around you. Only with their proper judgment will you know if you should move your body to a restroom and release your bladder. Otherwise, your rogue actions may cause severe trauma in your life. You'll have to pee knowing your actions weren't known by others. For shame.
End music.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Awkward Wednesdays #1: Car Ride
You know, I've been thinking about life and realize I'm a terribly awkward person. You know what else? The rest of the world is too. Sometimes we all just have "those moments" where we fall off a stage face first, or accidentally grab a stranger's ass thinking it was your boyfriend's/girlfriend's (Just examples you guys...maybe)
When we look back, we shudder, cringe, vomit, and shake uncontrollably, then think to ourselves, "Really, how did I do that...really, come on." Yet there's nothing we can do. Things happen and we eat cake. Or keep living or whatever.
So I decided that to live with these, I'm going to share an awkward story every Wednesday. Or at least on Wednesdays. It's the only kind of alliteration I could come up with. Awkward. Wednesday. You get the point. Then we can all revel in the awkwardness together.
Here we go:
One morning in 7th grade, I woke up and did what I had always done as a 7th grader. Showered, picked out my outfit complete with my Harry Potter-esque glasses (picture two large, see-through saucers sitting on my face, I think that fits.), ate my breakfast of wheat toast, and began walking to school.
You see, my Jr. High was approximately three blocks from my home so I never saw the need to obtain a ride from anyone. Look at little Ryan go, all independent like a young Eminem without the rapping.
Off I went, out the back door, backpack strapped tight, pants too short thanks to my gangly legs, and down the street.
After passing two houses, I rounded the corner and abruptly stopped.
*Honk honk!*
"What? Who is honking at me? " I thought to myself
I stood on the corner and turned around only to see one of my neighbors stopped near the sidewalk one house away. They honked again and I looked again. Standing there looking like a stretched out version of Dobby, I slowly walked toward the car. What was going on? I knew exactly who these people were but I had no need for a ride and wasn't even particularly late. Wait, maybe I was late. Crap.
*Honk*
I turned around and walked toward the car, opened the door, and plopped myself into the back seat.
"Oh...Hi Ryan." said the mom in the drivers seat.
I smiled politely and sat there. I mean, they're the ones who honked at me to get in the car, why were they all staring at me?
Not soon after, another passenger entered the vehicle and we were our way. Something was seriously off about this trip though as we all sat in silence the whole time.
We quickly got to school and I was early. Hm, I guess I wasn't late at all. Since I was 15 minutes early, none of my friend were around since mostly everyone showed up 5 minutes early or 5 minutes late. Mormon standard time at its finest.
I did what any socially inept child would do when they show up to a desolate school. Walk to your locker, go get a drink, go to the bathroom, check your locker again, swing by the drinking fountain again; nope, just janitors still. Oh look, your Spanish teacher has arrived in biker shorts...yeah go check your locker again, look away, look away--dear lord, make it stop.
Eventually the kids started filtering in and I found my friends and then proceeded to my first class.
I thought to myself how weird it was that I had been offered a ride when it was so unnecessary, I hate being early to school...wait...
The honking, the waiting, the honking in front of a house, the next passenger, the stares, and the silence...
I had walked up to a car, opened the door, and sat down. I had done so when they were honking for someone to come out of a house. Not at me down the street. I had hopped in a car like some hobo with a crazed smile and something odd still on their breath. They had stared like I was a hobo with a gland problem and no pants. No invitation. Shit...
Shame. Little Harry Potter felt an immense of shame in his first class; like a whale trainer getting eaten by Shamoo, he felt shame. Great, now I'm going to bite someone and they'll drown. That's how this works, right?
So, gangly McSkinnylegs had to sit the rest of the day stewing in a pile of chewed up whale trainer...
You can thank me for my terrible metaphors later.
When we look back, we shudder, cringe, vomit, and shake uncontrollably, then think to ourselves, "Really, how did I do that...really, come on." Yet there's nothing we can do. Things happen and we eat cake. Or keep living or whatever.
So I decided that to live with these, I'm going to share an awkward story every Wednesday. Or at least on Wednesdays. It's the only kind of alliteration I could come up with. Awkward. Wednesday. You get the point. Then we can all revel in the awkwardness together.
Here we go:
 |
| Work it girl. So confident |
You see, my Jr. High was approximately three blocks from my home so I never saw the need to obtain a ride from anyone. Look at little Ryan go, all independent like a young Eminem without the rapping.
Off I went, out the back door, backpack strapped tight, pants too short thanks to my gangly legs, and down the street.
After passing two houses, I rounded the corner and abruptly stopped.
*Honk honk!*
"What? Who is honking at me? " I thought to myself
I stood on the corner and turned around only to see one of my neighbors stopped near the sidewalk one house away. They honked again and I looked again. Standing there looking like a stretched out version of Dobby, I slowly walked toward the car. What was going on? I knew exactly who these people were but I had no need for a ride and wasn't even particularly late. Wait, maybe I was late. Crap.
*Honk*
I turned around and walked toward the car, opened the door, and plopped myself into the back seat.
"Oh...Hi Ryan." said the mom in the drivers seat.
I smiled politely and sat there. I mean, they're the ones who honked at me to get in the car, why were they all staring at me?
Not soon after, another passenger entered the vehicle and we were our way. Something was seriously off about this trip though as we all sat in silence the whole time.
We quickly got to school and I was early. Hm, I guess I wasn't late at all. Since I was 15 minutes early, none of my friend were around since mostly everyone showed up 5 minutes early or 5 minutes late. Mormon standard time at its finest.
I did what any socially inept child would do when they show up to a desolate school. Walk to your locker, go get a drink, go to the bathroom, check your locker again, swing by the drinking fountain again; nope, just janitors still. Oh look, your Spanish teacher has arrived in biker shorts...yeah go check your locker again, look away, look away--dear lord, make it stop.
Eventually the kids started filtering in and I found my friends and then proceeded to my first class.
I thought to myself how weird it was that I had been offered a ride when it was so unnecessary, I hate being early to school...wait...
The honking, the waiting, the honking in front of a house, the next passenger, the stares, and the silence...
 |
| Why Ryan...why? |
Shame. Little Harry Potter felt an immense of shame in his first class; like a whale trainer getting eaten by Shamoo, he felt shame. Great, now I'm going to bite someone and they'll drown. That's how this works, right?
So, gangly McSkinnylegs had to sit the rest of the day stewing in a pile of chewed up whale trainer...
You can thank me for my terrible metaphors later.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
If you see me riding my bike
Then please hit me with your car.
No, do it, don't even hesitate. I promise, it won't hurt that much...ok, it will probably hurt a lot, just do it.
Something in my head recently told me it was irresponsible to drive my car to the gym that is 3 blocks away when I could ride my bike/run there. Of course this comes with the price of pain.
I like to keep in shape, but I've never really biked recreationally before and it's...difficult.
-I'm scared of getting hit by cars
-My legs burn like the 7th level of hell since the gym is downhill on the way there and (obviously) uphill on the way back
-My bike is from the late 70's/early 80's and the gears are very touchy and in the middle of the bike underneath the handlebar. Meaning I wobble like a goon whenever I try to change gears (this is where the getting hit by cars comes into the picture).
-Cars
-I still don't know the hand signals for turning
-FLATTENED BY AN AUTOMOBILE
And running is no better you guys. I'm going to go against my own word for a sec, bear with me: Running is worse than getting to school and realizing you forgot to study for a test, you're in the wrong class...and you're naked. Also a dog bit you on the way to school and then he talked smack about your mom.
Yet, I still go running.
What's wrong with me? Maybe it's all the preservatives I've been eating this week and they're triggering something that makes me guilty about not exercising. That or I've been infected with that hippie college virus I hear about. I almost got out of University clean you guys, why now? I don't have money for a Prius. Next thing you know I'll be composting all my old food and wearing Tevas with socks.
On that day, you can hit me with your car.
Sidenote: Ok guys, I have jumped on the Lana Del Rey train many months late, but I'm a little obsessed right now. Something about her voice is so haunting...
No, do it, don't even hesitate. I promise, it won't hurt that much...ok, it will probably hurt a lot, just do it.
Something in my head recently told me it was irresponsible to drive my car to the gym that is 3 blocks away when I could ride my bike/run there. Of course this comes with the price of pain.
I like to keep in shape, but I've never really biked recreationally before and it's...difficult.
 |
| Just on my way to school |
-I'm scared of getting hit by cars
-My legs burn like the 7th level of hell since the gym is downhill on the way there and (obviously) uphill on the way back
-My bike is from the late 70's/early 80's and the gears are very touchy and in the middle of the bike underneath the handlebar. Meaning I wobble like a goon whenever I try to change gears (this is where the getting hit by cars comes into the picture).
-Cars
-I still don't know the hand signals for turning
-FLATTENED BY AN AUTOMOBILE
And running is no better you guys. I'm going to go against my own word for a sec, bear with me: Running is worse than getting to school and realizing you forgot to study for a test, you're in the wrong class...and you're naked. Also a dog bit you on the way to school and then he talked smack about your mom.
Yet, I still go running.
What's wrong with me? Maybe it's all the preservatives I've been eating this week and they're triggering something that makes me guilty about not exercising. That or I've been infected with that hippie college virus I hear about. I almost got out of University clean you guys, why now? I don't have money for a Prius. Next thing you know I'll be composting all my old food and wearing Tevas with socks.
On that day, you can hit me with your car.
Sidenote: Ok guys, I have jumped on the Lana Del Rey train many months late, but I'm a little obsessed right now. Something about her voice is so haunting...
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
The grocery stores are mocking me
They really are, I can tell you guys.
Walking into the local Smith's and everything, basically any item that I would like one of is on sale for 10 for 10$
Ryan, what are you talking about that's a great deal.
No internet person, it's not. I do not need ten of something, I don't have 20 small children living in my backyard...I sure hope I don't at least. If I had bought ten of everything I had needed one of, I would have spent over 200$ and would have to eat the same thing FOR ETERNITY.
Grocery stores, why you make life difficult for Ryan? Buy 10 of something? Oh no? Then buy one and it's as much as FIVE
*sigh*
I just thought I'd share my shopping woes with ya'll, you have to listen, right? Let's move on to action movies though.
Recently I've seen quite a few action movies, most of which I was less than pleased with.
*cough Snow White cough*
Well, I started noticing a regular trend in the extras in some of these action movies and sometimes just the movie set itself. Let's start with the extras during times of distress:
Alien creatures with laser guns are taking over the earth, what do you do!? Quick! Run into the crumbling skyscraper and let's watch what happens behind these large GLASS, EASILY SHATTERABLE GLASS, panes.
I don't know about you, but when running from death (not that I do that often guys...), I don't stand behind an object that is:
1) See-through
2) Weak
3) Will cut a bitch up if it breaks.
I also certainly DO NOT stick around and watch what's going to happen. Do you know what kind of people those are? Those are people who wear Crocs and if they are vaporized by a stray alien laser, it was meant to be.
I'M GOING TO RUN FOR THE HILLS
Also, can we just talk about the villains in some of these movies?
3 out of the many movies I saw had aliens as the bad guy. All of which were trying to destroy/take over earth for their own control. Let us discuss why on in particular were just terrible bad guys.
-Technology advanced enough to travel millions of miles through space in addition to force fields that trap all the good guys in a certain perimeter. Hey, let's not use the force fields on our own ships! Also, somehow a couple shots from earth boats can destroy us! Fancy that! (Battleship...I was not amused. If there had been one more cliche'd staring contest between characters/lines of stating the obvious, I would have walked out.).
You know, I'm going to stop ranting and just say this:
-The only redeeming quality in Battleship was the fact that it didn't burst into flames while we watched it (Why were you in a movie Rihanna...why...)
-Prometheus was rather enjoyable. Although, I get squeamish around blood and such so I definitely made the 'ew' noises half the time.
-Snow White, why were there SO MANY single tears down the cheek. No one ever full on cried, just one. Single. Effing. Tear.
Avengers was great and I won't bash on the bad guys since I honestly don't know the back-story of the Avengers so I just watched it for the joy of action and explosions. Yay, 'splosions and shit...
So basically I've been spending all my time in dark movie theaters cringing about underdeveloped story lines and bad acting. Oh yeah, and I just finished up my second class for the summer, that happened. I can't legally therapize* you, but I can pretend to! *wink*
Seriously, don't ask me to. You'll end up some sort of Jack the Ripper/Ted Bundy type character and then I'll go to jail. I can't go back there you guys.
*Therapize: (Verb) The act of giving therapy to someone. My professor decided to coin this term and it has stuck with me since saying "I'm going to give therapy" or "Let's therapize" just takes so long to say. Doesn't "Imma therapize you!" just roll off the tongue better?
Walking into the local Smith's and everything, basically any item that I would like one of is on sale for 10 for 10$
Ryan, what are you talking about that's a great deal.
No internet person, it's not. I do not need ten of something, I don't have 20 small children living in my backyard...I sure hope I don't at least. If I had bought ten of everything I had needed one of, I would have spent over 200$ and would have to eat the same thing FOR ETERNITY.
Grocery stores, why you make life difficult for Ryan? Buy 10 of something? Oh no? Then buy one and it's as much as FIVE
*sigh*
I just thought I'd share my shopping woes with ya'll, you have to listen, right? Let's move on to action movies though.
Recently I've seen quite a few action movies, most of which I was less than pleased with.
*cough Snow White cough*
Well, I started noticing a regular trend in the extras in some of these action movies and sometimes just the movie set itself. Let's start with the extras during times of distress:
Alien creatures with laser guns are taking over the earth, what do you do!? Quick! Run into the crumbling skyscraper and let's watch what happens behind these large GLASS, EASILY SHATTERABLE GLASS, panes.
I don't know about you, but when running from death (not that I do that often guys...), I don't stand behind an object that is:
1) See-through
2) Weak
3) Will cut a bitch up if it breaks.
I also certainly DO NOT stick around and watch what's going to happen. Do you know what kind of people those are? Those are people who wear Crocs and if they are vaporized by a stray alien laser, it was meant to be.
I'M GOING TO RUN FOR THE HILLS
Also, can we just talk about the villains in some of these movies?
3 out of the many movies I saw had aliens as the bad guy. All of which were trying to destroy/take over earth for their own control. Let us discuss why on in particular were just terrible bad guys.
-Technology advanced enough to travel millions of miles through space in addition to force fields that trap all the good guys in a certain perimeter. Hey, let's not use the force fields on our own ships! Also, somehow a couple shots from earth boats can destroy us! Fancy that! (Battleship...I was not amused. If there had been one more cliche'd staring contest between characters/lines of stating the obvious, I would have walked out.).
You know, I'm going to stop ranting and just say this:
-The only redeeming quality in Battleship was the fact that it didn't burst into flames while we watched it (Why were you in a movie Rihanna...why...)
-Prometheus was rather enjoyable. Although, I get squeamish around blood and such so I definitely made the 'ew' noises half the time.
-Snow White, why were there SO MANY single tears down the cheek. No one ever full on cried, just one. Single. Effing. Tear.
Avengers was great and I won't bash on the bad guys since I honestly don't know the back-story of the Avengers so I just watched it for the joy of action and explosions. Yay, 'splosions and shit...
So basically I've been spending all my time in dark movie theaters cringing about underdeveloped story lines and bad acting. Oh yeah, and I just finished up my second class for the summer, that happened. I can't legally therapize* you, but I can pretend to! *wink*
Seriously, don't ask me to. You'll end up some sort of Jack the Ripper/Ted Bundy type character and then I'll go to jail. I can't go back there you guys.
*Therapize: (Verb) The act of giving therapy to someone. My professor decided to coin this term and it has stuck with me since saying "I'm going to give therapy" or "Let's therapize" just takes so long to say. Doesn't "Imma therapize you!" just roll off the tongue better?
Monday, June 11, 2012
I'm going to be mighty prideful
Oh Pride...
The last weekend I spent up in good ol' Salty Lake City to celebrate the...pridefulness (?) that is pride. Yes, gay Pride. Because I'm gay...I hope most people get that by now. Not enough? Gay gay gay gay gay. Ah, I think that's enough or do I need to insert pictures or rainbows and unicorns in here? Here you go.
All jokes aside, I really did enjoy all the shenanigans that my friends did get me involved in which included:
-Making shirts that said, "Baby, I was Born This GAY" Where the gay was in big glitter letters. Mine were pink. I didn't pick the color although I have nothing against pink, just not my first choice.
-A plethora of pool parties which resulted in my shoulders being gnarily (like gnarly, but more so) sunburned and me wanting to die.
-Hearing WAY too much club music for a good year or so. Oh Regina Spektor, you're going to be playing while my ears recover...
-Attending the pride parade and receiving a whole bag of things thrown at me (including the bag), most of which were condoms and candy. Of course, my friends stole all the candy so now I just have a big bag of plastic *ba dum tss* Any takers?
-Attending pride festival after said parade which resulted in more sunburns, more strangers I had to meet, more free stuff, pictures taken with different booths (such as the Trevor Project cause they're awesome), and listening to even more club music.
I'm going to relate this to Christmas for a sec guys, k? Christmas you say...what?
Yeah, I'm confusing myself too but I'm going to attribute it to all the terrible action movies I've seen lately. I DON'T HAVE TO MAKE SENSE EVER.
A lot of the time people get caught up with the festivities and start to forget what the whole point of the festivities are (there, do you get the Christmas connection now? No? Well keep reading and if you don't you can call me and complain. Of course, I'm going to ignore your call because I know why you're calling...*sigh* You know what? Just...just go away). Anyways, the point of it all, what is it?
A whole bunch of the crowd gets caught up in the parties and takes for granted something that is pretty special.
Here we have a weekend where a bunch of people get to get together and celebrate togetherness.
Equality.
Pride in all that we were born into.
Whatever it is you are, you're special and appreciated.
Acceptance.
I honestly haven't ever been to such an event where I can be proud of who I am and celebrate that fact with other people who are proud to be who they are. Gays, Bisexuals, Transgender, Drag Queens, Cyber Sluts (don't google that), people with fetishes, people without fetishes, people who like glitter, people who don't, people who are religious*, people who aren't, and straight people. Literally, a celebration of differences about being together--if that makes any sense.
Our culture already has such a hard time with accepting itself with things like weight and appearance so I see only good things come from people who are able to accept themselves and happy to share it with others.
I'm going to get all sappy with you guys for a second if you guys can take that.
When I first came out as a gay teenager in suburbian Utah, I wasn't ok with myself. I had put so much weight on myself on something that I had deemed wrong and not ok that it started getting to me. Many a late night were devoted to self-loathing and wishing I was different. Of course, here I am now.
I've been asked before if I ever regretted coming out. I'm sure if you had asked me that right after I had, I would have said yes. Yes, this is scary and I would rather going back to being unnoticed and "normal." Of course, now I've seen what it has done for me. It's made me a stronger person, more aware of who I am and who I want to be, brave, and more willing to accept others. I took all the differences that brought me down and used them to build me into something better.
So no, no I do not regret coming out at all, I'm very proud I did it and now don't regret it for a second.
I'm sincerely glad I was able to participate in something so centered around with truly being who you are. That it is okay to be "different" than the masses. That it is okay to stand out and speak out.
That it is okay to shout at people passing by as your glitter shirt sparkles in the sun.
Happy Pride.
Sidenote: I have a friend who put this experience into words quite more eloquently than I have and it's by far something that is worth reading. A tad nerdy with some Matrix references, but I like it. With his permission, here you go kiddos: http://kylecranney.blogspot.com/2012/06/glitch-in-matrix-pride_04.html
*On the note of religious people, seeing the group 'Mormons Building Bridges' march in the parade made my day. It's always great to see those reaching out to try and make better a community.
The last weekend I spent up in good ol' Salty Lake City to celebrate the...pridefulness (?) that is pride. Yes, gay Pride. Because I'm gay...I hope most people get that by now. Not enough? Gay gay gay gay gay. Ah, I think that's enough or do I need to insert pictures or rainbows and unicorns in here? Here you go.
 |
| Golly that's majestic |
-Making shirts that said, "Baby, I was Born This GAY" Where the gay was in big glitter letters. Mine were pink. I didn't pick the color although I have nothing against pink, just not my first choice.
-A plethora of pool parties which resulted in my shoulders being gnarily (like gnarly, but more so) sunburned and me wanting to die.
-Hearing WAY too much club music for a good year or so. Oh Regina Spektor, you're going to be playing while my ears recover...
-Attending the pride parade and receiving a whole bag of things thrown at me (including the bag), most of which were condoms and candy. Of course, my friends stole all the candy so now I just have a big bag of plastic *ba dum tss* Any takers?
-Attending pride festival after said parade which resulted in more sunburns, more strangers I had to meet, more free stuff, pictures taken with different booths (such as the Trevor Project cause they're awesome), and listening to even more club music.
I'm going to relate this to Christmas for a sec guys, k? Christmas you say...what?
Yeah, I'm confusing myself too but I'm going to attribute it to all the terrible action movies I've seen lately. I DON'T HAVE TO MAKE SENSE EVER.
A lot of the time people get caught up with the festivities and start to forget what the whole point of the festivities are (there, do you get the Christmas connection now? No? Well keep reading and if you don't you can call me and complain. Of course, I'm going to ignore your call because I know why you're calling...*sigh* You know what? Just...just go away). Anyways, the point of it all, what is it?
| Look, it's Ryan. (Literally what came up when I google'd 'rainbow') |
A whole bunch of the crowd gets caught up in the parties and takes for granted something that is pretty special.
Here we have a weekend where a bunch of people get to get together and celebrate togetherness.
Equality.
Pride in all that we were born into.
Whatever it is you are, you're special and appreciated.
Acceptance.
I honestly haven't ever been to such an event where I can be proud of who I am and celebrate that fact with other people who are proud to be who they are. Gays, Bisexuals, Transgender, Drag Queens, Cyber Sluts (don't google that), people with fetishes, people without fetishes, people who like glitter, people who don't, people who are religious*, people who aren't, and straight people. Literally, a celebration of differences about being together--if that makes any sense.
Our culture already has such a hard time with accepting itself with things like weight and appearance so I see only good things come from people who are able to accept themselves and happy to share it with others.
I'm going to get all sappy with you guys for a second if you guys can take that.
When I first came out as a gay teenager in suburbian Utah, I wasn't ok with myself. I had put so much weight on myself on something that I had deemed wrong and not ok that it started getting to me. Many a late night were devoted to self-loathing and wishing I was different. Of course, here I am now.
I've been asked before if I ever regretted coming out. I'm sure if you had asked me that right after I had, I would have said yes. Yes, this is scary and I would rather going back to being unnoticed and "normal." Of course, now I've seen what it has done for me. It's made me a stronger person, more aware of who I am and who I want to be, brave, and more willing to accept others. I took all the differences that brought me down and used them to build me into something better.
So no, no I do not regret coming out at all, I'm very proud I did it and now don't regret it for a second.
I'm sincerely glad I was able to participate in something so centered around with truly being who you are. That it is okay to be "different" than the masses. That it is okay to stand out and speak out.
That it is okay to shout at people passing by as your glitter shirt sparkles in the sun.
Happy Pride.
Sidenote: I have a friend who put this experience into words quite more eloquently than I have and it's by far something that is worth reading. A tad nerdy with some Matrix references, but I like it. With his permission, here you go kiddos: http://kylecranney.blogspot.com/2012/06/glitch-in-matrix-pride_04.html
*On the note of religious people, seeing the group 'Mormons Building Bridges' march in the parade made my day. It's always great to see those reaching out to try and make better a community.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)