Monday, April 20, 2009

Good Morning Welcome to Pornbook!

So This Morning on Facebook (capitalized because obviously "This Morning on Facebook" is the "Days of our Lives" of my generation... "Like the unidentifiable crap that builds up on the bottom of your mouse it's time for This Morning on Facebook") I see that a girl I know from high school has commented on the picture of another girl from high school who I sort of know (because my high school was tiny) but not really. Girl #2 is not my friend on Facebook but her picture is now visible to me and (nosy Nellie that I totally am, especially when it comes to random people from high school) I click on it and it is TOTALLY a stripper picture. Like not just a little risque "hey look how sexy I am! Suck it former high school classmates!" (though she is in fact fairly sexy -- what I wouldn't give for those abs (actually -- exactly what I wouldn't give for those abs is more than 100 sit ups a week)) or a sexy little number to tempt single dudes in your area to buy you a drink sometime (both of which are totally something I would (nay, have) post) but a, "lying on a mirrored table in a g-string and a bra with rainbow kneehighs and green patent platform heels and one knee bent up so she can grab the 4 inch heel of the platform while looking at the camera all 'someone better be giving me some cold hard cash for holding this pose.'" So then obviously I browse the entire album which is entitled "Bored, I Guess" as in "hmm my stupid friends bailed on me and no one wants to go see "Monsters vs. Aliens" alone! How shall I entertain myself... oh lookie here, a florescent yellow peekaboo bra and a camera and whoops! I lost my panties!" Happens all of the time. It probably goes without saying that this girl's dad was the guidance counselor at our highschool. And that she has since removed all of the vowels from her name so that what once was a normal suburban monkier now sounds like the spawn of a Welshman and a pair of daisy dukes. I have less of an issue with the lack of underwear than I do with the blatant cliche-ness of this whole enterprise.

After a thorough perusing of the entire lurid album I woke G up to share -- cause he loves gossip almost as much as he loves boobies -- but shockingly he was having none of it. He rolled his eyes! He said I was being catty! He COMPARED ME TO HIS CHURCH OF CHRIST LOVING MOM! Despite what my boyfriend may now think, I really have little issue with the actual stripping (or the selling for dirty pictures which I have to assume is going on because if not then someone needs to talk to
StFny (not her actual fake name) about the cow and the buying of the free milk). I would even go so far as to say I support strippers. I don't care if G wants to go ogle some boobies. I think that a lady should have every right to do with her body whatever she wants. If I had heard through the grapevine that this girl was now a stripper I would have surely giggled and called all of my highschool friends to gossip and I would have felt superior and a little bitchy BUT I also would have thought "ok well good for her, I hope she pulls in $1000/night in tips from dirty old bastards." and that would be it. But I didn't hear this through the grapevine. Someone didn't stumble upon her risque profession in a dark back alley and then cuelly out her to the world -- she posted pictures of herself on Facebook! Pictures with her panties around her ankles! So now I have to blog about it -- I may look like a bitch here (and a jealous one at that -- see note above re:abs) but my hand was forced.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Puppy Haters

One of the benefits of moving in with G (actually the main one) is that he gets a lot of magazines. This is especially fortuitous because he did not see fit to get our cable TV or (much much much more importantly) our internet installed until sometime in 2012 so we’re basically living like it’s 1930 (same lack of modern conveniences different economic depression). So when I’m not unpacking scads of boxes and wondering not only why do I own all this crap but also why did I just pay to have someone drive it cross borough I’ve been reading Newsweek cover to cover. This is how I found out that the Amish are puppy murdering bastards. Apparently not content to rule over just pies and surprisingly cheap (yet beautiful!) faux fireplaces the original men in black are also taking over the breeding of man’s best friend. When they’re not shooting them in the head.

For those of you to lazy to read a 3 page article (Everyone) let me sum up. Basically, desperate for money in our cash strapped times (coke just isn’t selling like it used to), the Amish have taken to cross breeding any old dog with a poodle and raking in the big money from celebrities and wannabees who can’t say no to a doodle of any sort. And the Amish were swimming in black top hats made from the finest cotton and super swank barns (seriously, where do Amish put their extra cash? Blinged out Buggies? (Best reality show idea ever.)) until the public found out that the Amish don’t love cute widdle puppies and were letting them live in squalor with no hugs and lots of parasites. I was on board with the article and ready to form an angry mob to march on Pennsylvania right up until this:

Animal-rights advocates say that culturally, the farmers who breed dogs don't see a meaningful distinction between pets and farm animals raised for slaughter. Sometimes they behave accordingly: last summer Elmer Zimmerman, a dairy farmer in Kutztown, Penn., shot and killed 70 sick dogs on his farm, avoiding big vet bills after a health warden ordered him to take the dogs in for treatment.

Wait a minute. Like the Amish I also see little difference between puppies and cattle in that both are animals that should be treated with a certain amount of respect. Don’t get me wrong, I eat cows and I don’t eat dogs (though perhaps if they were super delicious…) but I don’t think this indicates a major difference in how each animal should be treated while alive. Neither animal should be forced to live in filth, neither animal should be starved, each animal should have a right to an honorable death. And (here is where PETA comes out to kick my ass) both are a livestock products which the farmer should have right to kill in a humane way if he so chooses.

News of the shootings led to protests and prayer vigils outside the Zimmerman farm. Gov. Ed Rendell, a pet lover, marshaled that public outrage to push through a tough new law aimed at improving conditions at puppy mills.

I find this freaked out reaction to puppies living in their own filth a bit hard to take seriously if the same people aren’t equally pissed off about pigs (who might be even smarter than dogs, especially dogs with names ending in doodle) living in their own filth (ok, perhaps a bad example, for the sake of this argument let’s pretend that pigs don’t LOVE filth). And I suspect there are tons more destitute cow, chickens and pigs living in awful inhumane feedlots than there are puppies suffering in mills. Cute shouldn’t be a qualifier for humane treatment (if it were all Afgan Hounds would be thrown to the Amish).

Aside: GUYS! There is a PLAY based on AMISH GONE WILD (aka Rumspriga). I will be seeing this ASAP.

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Life has Jumped the Shark

It all started 2 months ago when suddenly I was over Twitter. Unlike the millions who were born being over Twitter I was actually very into it for roughly 3 months until I realized that most of my updates were from people I couldn't care less about and (even worse) no one was playing proper respect to my brilliant tweets. Twitter was essentially Facebook status updates with a more accurate representation of how much the world cares about the amazing bran muffin I had this morning and the subsequent regularity that ensued (thankfully over on Facebook I have tons of friends willing to pretend that such updates are endlessly engaging).

I am also over Macs. Not that I was ever that into them but I got a mac laptop for my new job and kind of hoped to have the sort of computer inspired orgasm that Apple converts will not shut up about. The laptop is fine I guess -- I mean it certainly looks nice and I like to imagine lots of hipster kids in airports looking at me and thinking "oh man, she must be so cool, I bet she is like the blond Amélie only way less annoying" (actually hipsters totally don't think Amélie is annoying, they love pixie-ish girls who are maddeningly out of touch with reality -- you know, assuming they are also crazy hot.). I generally like the gesture ability that allows me to see all of the things I have open with the swipe of 4 fingers across the mouse and the camera does some cool things. But really none of these seem worth the crazy Mac price tag (though maybe they would have been if I were single and looking to pick up an arty dude in a coffee shop). I am hoping that burying these desparaging comments in paragraph 2 will keep the legions of Mac fanboys from tracking me down and stoning me with apples (Since I assume that like all of my readers fanboys never get past the third sentence and a cursory scan for pictures of my ass).

Most shocking of all is that I think I might be over the JCrew online sale . I KNOW. I'm down to looking at it only once a week and that little visit is mostly me yawning spittle onto my computer screen. I guess a girl can only own so many tissue tshirts, whimsical flip flops and brightly colored chinos before the coma sets in. I recently limited myself to only purchasing interesting items from JCrew and it just so happens that this adjetive only applies to like 5 of the items in their catalouge.

And of course, as you've surely noticed, I'm over blogging. Some might claim that I've been over blogging for almost a year but they would be wrong. While it has been about that long since I could consistently write entries that didn't suck it has only been about a month since I stopped caring. Or rather since I mostly gave up on caring. Cause I would still love to write some rocking blog posts, become famous and (somehow) profit but I find myself completely unable to execute step one (you know, the step where I start typing and the computer screen doesn't transform before my eyes into a pile of poop). Most recently I got over other people's blogs. Oh, surely there are still tons of brilliant essays being penned about obscure Settler's of Catan strategies, 101 signs that Chet from the Real World Brooklyn loves dudes and new and improved ways to eat ice cream but I just can't be bothered to read any of them. This is probably partially due to jealousy -- who are these people with their brilliant ideas and ability to write about them?

I'm sure I'll get out of this funk when it comes to blogging -- I fully intend to force myself to write and post and subject all of you to the drivle that ensues. As for Twitter, Macs and JCrew? Those dudes can suck it.