Saturday, February 25, 2006

Old People Must Die - A Teenage Angst Blog Entry

I hate old people. I don't mean really old people. I mean people who are older than me. Like people in their forties, around there. You know why? Because they all want to help you. People that age want to help people my age because they think they know something about the world. They think they know something about anything but they know nothing about everything. I know I don't know anything! I accept that. People get a couple more years on them and suddenly they think they're authorities on subjects.

No! You dense charlatan! If I were like you, it might be different. If I was just a bite-sized version of Old Person #8769B, then, yes, fine, you can give me advice and tell me what to do. You can instruct me and guide me to my next step in life so I can follow in your horrendously droll footsteps. But you know what, oldie? I ain't you! I refuse to be you! You bore the hell out of me and I never want to be the same as you are.

To an old person, I imagine I look like little more than a lazy mooch and, to be frank, that's basically what I am at this juncture. But I don't want to stay this way. I truly, TRULY want to do something with my life and I'd just like a bit of bloody time to do it.

Old people see a gap in society and have an immediate need to fill it. They have a strong desire to reduce everyone to a husk of what they once were. "Oh! A child with no crappy nine to five responsibility and a belief in his own future! OLD PERSON CRUSH!!!"

This old woman, a friend of my mom's, is now trying to hook me up with a job in an insurance company. Hey, great! I've always wanted to die before I had a chance to live. If I have to go into an interview to appease my parents, I'm going to flub it on purpose. SH-ZANG!!!

I know this is totally just like a teenager-style attitude. Oh, everyone older than me is wrong, they don't understand me, I'll never be like they are, I'll show them, etc. etc. I understand and totally see that but I'm not completely without any plans for my future. I just want people to give me some goddamn time. Don't shoehorn me into some freaking cubicle because I'm not productive enough. Of course it'll happen eventually, but the longer I can stave off dinner parties in which discussion of the location at which the dinnerware was purchased constitutes vibrant conversation, the better.

LEMME ALONE, GRANDMA!!!

Friday, February 24, 2006

If Jesus Could Fly

If Jesus could fly I'd be more inclined to believe he was our savior. Like, for example, if in the Bible it said "Then Jesus up and started flyin' around the joint!" I think I'd have to believe more whole-heartedly in the son of God (or "the Big Dawg" as he's often referred to on the Grammies).

Think about it! All the brotha did was walk on some water! Sheeoot! Is this really all that interesting? What about those little bugs that skate around on the water? Are THOSE all my saviors? Skatin' around on the water as they do and such? I mean, really now, the big J couldn't even run across! Had to carefully pick his way across, didn't he? Bet he was all trepedacious about it too, hands out to the sides, teetering dangerously like a drunken fat boy on a window ledge (I seen it!), muttering to himself "Oh God, oh Jesus, don't fall in, don't fall in, everyone's watching you, damn it, you're so stupid, why'd you even come out here, okay shut up shut up! Just focus. FOCUSSSSS!!!"

And these bugs! They frickin' skate! SKATE!!! Like it ain't no thang! Got Jesus BEAT cold!! Do they fly too? If they do, well crap, Jesus, don't quit your day job, pal. Lots of bugs walk on the walls too by the way, Jesus. Fred Astaire even got up on the ceilings! Can someone say, DETHRONEMENT, JESUS? CAN SOMEONE? PLEASE??? THANKS.

All I'm saying is that if the guy flew, we wouldn't have this problem. Right now I'm more inclined to worship the man of steel, you know what I'm saying? Guy can turn back time if he wants. What'd you do, Jees? Made a whole lot of bread and fish? Hi, yeah, thanks for the prison food, bro. I bet all the people there were like "Oh...fish...uh...yummy."

Next time you show up I wanna see one hell of an apocalypse (I'm talking rivaling the effects of Terminator 2 here) or we're gonna have words.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

When You Dance, Dance for Pleasure

Ah, to dance! What an atrocious notion! People get up on each other and simulate sexual acts through the clothing! Gracious! Do I have to slip the gal a twenty afterwards?! Hahaha! I am going to get a lot of fans with this here blog!

The other type of dancing is not fake sex! It’s just like “Okay, I’m going to rock slowly back and forth on my feet and you are going to do it too and we’ll just do it in front of each other and THAT’S CALLED FUN!!” Ah, romance! How boring! No wonder girls hate me.

Of course, you can learn some difficult dancing like the tango and the salad dressing waltz but what is that? I have to rehearse and learn and practice for five years (FIVE YEARS EXACTLY) before I can have fun with my dancing? And what is so fun about it! You are just thinking “OKAY OKAY DO THIS DON’T SCREW UP DON’T SCREW UP!!!!” Hey, screw you, dancin’! You think you sooooooo da bomb but what you is really? You is nada nuttin’ stinkbucket!

Hell to Go! That is the new drive-thru porno store I am going to build.

PUT ADS ON MY BLOG ABOUT DANCE LESSONS, GOOGLEE!! THIS IS YOUR CHANCE, GOOGLEE!!! DON’T FAIL ME NOW, GOO, GLEE!!!!!!!!!!!

I Listen to Weird Music, Guys

I listen to weird music, guys. So I’ma gonna tell you about some of it now so you can pretend you’re me. Why would you wanna do that? Hell, I dunno. Why are you reading blogs by some people you know nothing about whose credentials are, shall we say, QUESTIONABLE??? Anyway, you guys are nuts.

The Go! Team is a horrendously likeable band from “ENGLAND,” as it’s called in some circles. Their album “Thunder, Lightning, Strike” was recorded in a damn basement, much of it is instrumental, and the parts where they do sing often involve choruses of girls chanting like cheerleaders. They use trumpets and violins and harmonicas. It’s very infectious stuff. Try downloading “Huddle Formation” and "Panther Dash."

The Pixies are the best band ever. Lots of people know about them now but, whatever, they are the best alternative rock there has been and ever will be, I would say. Everyone likes “Where is My Mind?” but I think “No. 13 Baby” is my favorite song. “Break My Body” is good too.

Mindless Self Indulgence is a good band from New York. Kids who like bad metal and goth music love them but that’s the only bad thing about them. They are insane and fast and noisy and dancey somewhat and just plain amazing. If you’re over thirty you’ll probably hate them. One of their earliest songs was about five-year old pantyshots. They’ve toned down the obscene offensiveness since then but you’ll still hate them if you’re old or Mormon. People who can put their tongues up in their cheek shouldn’t mind. Get “What Do They Know?” or “Prom” to hear them at their best.

Bearsuit is a very odd band that is also British. They are often cacophonic as heck but also poppy. They have a fair number of songs that are more okay rather than great but the really good stuff is growing on me like a hardcore fungus. In general, it is interesting to hear the weird things they pull sometimes. The song “Going Steady” is my favorite and it uses a RECORDER and it actually sounds GOOD! "Hey Charlie Hey Chuck" is quite great too. "I Thought You Said You Were Blind" is a beautiful little number and is probably one of the most easily likeable, less violent-sounding things they have.

That’s enough for now. I will tell you about more music later.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Two Short Stories from the Mall

I was in a MALL and I went past two OLD LADIES, like old as in they could have been grandmothers both of 'em

Anyhoooooo, the one says to the other AND I QUIZZOTE, "I just think it's kind of funny, yo."

YO SHE SAID YO. I thought I was mishearing it and then I said to my sister (she was there too!) "It sounded like that old lady said yo" and she said "Oh, she did."

THE STORY CONTINUES (although honestly that was the best part, it's all downhill from here).

A discussion between two employees from Sears as we walked away from them after getting some unhelpful assistance:

GIRL: "So, you want to go bowling?"

GUY: "I hate bowling."

END!

Monday, February 20, 2006

Nothing You Say is Important and Therefore Everything Is

Now it is time for an existential discussion, old chaps.

From day to day, one can run into any number of jackanapes, gallavantin' around saying stupid garbage. "I'VE GOT A NEW TRACTOR!" a man with a cap might say. "I'M WEARING A FRAGRANCE!" a woman of noble stature will exclaim. "I BUILT MY OWN POOL!" some bearded father will quote. "IF SANDWICHES COULD FLY, WOULD THEY USE THE LETTUCE AS WINGS?!" I would personally question!

Now, what is the difference between all of these statements, chums!? Is one of these things not like the others?! Yes and no! But mostly no!!!! Now, see, I'm loonier than your average chickadee, sure. From day to day, I hear people spouting horribly uninteresting statements. Heck, I do it too! "I'D LIKE A DONUT!" I'll say to the Dunkin' Donuts employee. "BORIIIIIINNNGG!" he would be justified to respond!

However! Does it make sense to vary your speech from day to day? To try and say some new crazy shizzat that nobody has ever heard before? Well, it's really up to you, now isn't it!? It can be fun! I suggest trying it and see how it fits you. The thing is this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In the grand scheme of things, nothing ANYONE says matters, you see?! YOU SEE!!?? Language is a human-manufactured thing which holds no great weight. When you talk, are you making any great breakthroughs, EVER? Probably not! Some person probably already said what you said long, long ago in not so many words. Besides! You think a toucan gives a crap what you're babbling about! TOUCAN DON'T CARE!!!! Except the one who sells cereal. He's a talker.

So, nothing we say matters BUT!!! At the same time, if we all accepted the fact that our words are across the board unspectacular, we would have nothing to say to each other and nothing would get done, AM I RIGHT OR WHAT?! Speaking in the NOW is how things happen and stuff goes down! Without communication (of various types; e.g. punching someone in the gut communicates something) there would be no love! There would be no hate either! But there would be no LOVE, man!!! And no SANDWICHES!!! HOW CAN YOU TELL SOMEONE WHAT YOU WANT ON A SANDWICH IF YOU DON'T SAY IT!!! GOOD GOD!!!!!

The only time in which speech is wasted, therefore, is when you quote a movie or a tv show or something. Used in an applicable situation, it can be excusable but if I hear someone vomit out another Austin Powers quote or that band camp crap from American Pie, I am...well, not going to do anything but I really hate it. You're wasting time! And you're wasting the language by just saying something already established that you and everyone else KNOWS isn't even yours! AND IT'S NOT EVEN THAT FUNNY!

So, in conclusion, don't quote Austin Powers.

DISMISSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sunday, February 19, 2006

The Best Salad There Ever Was

There once was a salad that a young lad tried and he loved it so much that he cried and he cried at the very moment the first leaf touched his lips, the dressing was sweet and the lettuce was crisp.

He screamed and he bawled to his friend 'cross the table, "I WOULD LIVE, BREATHE, AND BATHE IN THIS SALAD IF ABLE!"

The salad was that good, he wasn't just kidding, if it'd had vocal cords, he'd have done its bidding.

His friend was confounded, he did not understand in the first place why salad had been ordered by a man.

"What kind of jerk are you?" he had asked him earlier, "You some kind of girl? You used to be burlier."

"I just want a salad so get off my back." He did not think his order warranted this attack.

Now the tables had turned for the salad was great, so incredible it amazed him it sat right on his plate!

"You've got to try a bite!" he told his compadre but his friend pretended not to hear of this parle.

After a fair bit of coaxing I don't care to write, the friend acquiesced and dropped all the fight.

He gingerly took one taste of the salad and immediately sprang into a rousing ballad (the contents of this song shan't be detailed here but, boy, was it ever a joy to the ear).

Now the two boys explicated, "Hey, what the hell!?!" was put into this salad that made it taste so well!

They called over the waiter after a bit of doing and asked what exactly in the kitchen was stewing.

"What is it that makes this salad so darn great?! With so much personality it springs off the plate?!"

"What is it, please tells us, we must know the secret."

"We put bacon bits in it," said the waiter.