Good Television Inspires Hypocrisy

A strange phenomenon I've witnessed (Rule Of Three counts as witnessing enough to note...) recently. The following (very much recurring) conversation, Tuesdays, 9:04 pm:

R: "Hel--"

M: *genuinely irritated* "I'm just calling to tell you it made me cry, and I'm never watching this fucking show again. I mean it. Goodbye." *hangs up*

This is regularly proved to be hypocritical, so the rationale offered is something like "I was only going to watch the beginning but then they did BARBRA, so I had to." (thus proving the theory that the only people who watch Glee **The finale is tonight ZOMG!!1!one!** **UPDATE: Phone call received. I cried a little too though, so in my mind it's justified.** are teenage girls, their mothers, and gay men. We've also managed to convert my grandma.) Similar conversation between my mother and me, (but she was basically narrating...) regarding some extreme medical procedures show:

D: "Awww, LOOK at that thing! It's gone almost all the way through his head! Auugh, how the hell are they going to remove that? Why am I watching this?"

R: "Because you're a depraved sadist who can't bring yourself to inflict pain on others, so instead you rely on equally sadistic television producers to broadcast it for your sick entertainment?"

D: *suspiciously laughing tone* "Ohhh my God that must hurt! GROSS! Look. LOOK!"

R: "Why? You just said it was gross."

D: "But it's science."

And to round out the rule of three, this is most of my own thought process during any given episode Doctor Who. It is within the realm of my physical ability to just stop watching this, but will I? Naw, of course not. I could/should spare myself quite a bit of confusion (Time and ensuing traversing of it is complicated. Crazy awesome British humanoid alien regularly saves universe, interchangeable companions, from various monsters. Everyone/thing else dies. With a screwdriver that looks like a laser pointer that can do things beyond the capabilities of either of those two objects.), fright (no, I am still not over this.), even tears on a few occasions (Father Octavian, damn.), but it's compelling and enjoyable. I can't credit science or musical obsession, it just IS.

FIPOGI: (scratch that, since it's almost 8 and I can't find anything on Google Images worth pilfering, NEW ACRONYM TIME! Video Of Current Ear Worm, henceforth known as VOCEW. Songs get stuck in my head, I feel it's my duty to *share* them. You're welcome. :))

VOCEW:

Seinfeldian Observations (Or, the blog earns its name)

NOTE: Shortly before starting this post I was called upon to Google the spelling and meaning of Taekwondo (one word, yes, and it's spelled right, automatic spellcheck). Thought you should know that it's the national sport of South Korea and has been an Olympic sport since 2000 under WTF regulations. Hah.

(Maybe the Internetz have corrupted me, but What The Fuck regulations sound a lot more interesting than World Taekwondo Federation regulations, wouldn't you agree?)

Anyway, I pose a question:

Is there any way to scientifically prove the benefits of stripy toothpaste? Does each stripe have a specific function, or is it just general toothpaste colored into bands? (Which would be a clever marketing ploy, but would probably result in lawsuits...) The twisted together stripes in the center of the cap also kind of turn a light purplish, which in theory if mass produced would have the same results, but be more visually appealing. In my opinion.

And just because that point needs more informational nonsense to go along with it:

HAPPY CHIMBORAZO DAY!

Chimborazo is a volcano in Ecuador, its claim to being-famous-enough-to-have-its-own-holiday is that it pokes farther out into space than any other mountain on EARTH. Yeah. The BOLD makes it look awesome. Wouldn't the mountain with this title be Mt. Everest, though? Unless because it's in Ecuador it's not weighed down by snow or the atmosphere is thinner because it's warmer. I don't know. I don't write the facts (or even throughly research them), people, I just steal them from the Internet. **Disclaimer: Of course, I just mean in the context of blogs, not important schoolwork related pursuits. This is not to say I don't value the importance and informationalness of this blog... ;)**

FIPOGI!

Why I'm Tired.

(Incredibly stupid and avoidable reasons ahead!)

So. I'm trying to blog at 11 in the morning, just because I'm awake and this counts as carpe-ing diem, no? Yes. Yes it does. One problem with that...

less than six hours of sleep. Fun. Recap:

In keeping with my unreasonable summer schedule of wakefulness and unconsciousness, I was awake and very frankly kind of bored at 1 in the morning. Instead of going to bed like a normal person, I decided to catch up on Doctor Who (and was getting all excited because I hadn't seen it in weeks... ah, the rare occasion my social life interferes with my nerdy pursuits-- viva el on demand, sí). Sure. Fine. Overall, creepy yet throughly enjoyable and awesome. Except that it was raining, hard. Thunder, lightning, et cetera. Sure, fine. . .

The major plot involved sentient angel statue things that can only move (/thus effectively kill people...) when they aren't being seen, have the power or energy or whatever to flash lights, and can also inhabit people's minds and come out of screens. Great. Important facts:

1. I am a very easily frightened person.

2. There is an ongoing thunderstorm.

3. The Weeping Angels are pretty much the fucking scariest things ever.

*cue light-flicker, 20 second power outage*

*. . .*

I died a little.

Things I Should Do, Preferably Soon

1. Publish some blogs, I have a dozen drafts of posts that never wound up getting published even though they contain points I'd like to blog about eventually, so I should devote some time to editing them/lengthening them. Eventually.

2. Clean my closet. Much like with the first one, I've started a few times but never finished. I operate around this under the Mantra Of True Lazy Slobs: "As soon as I finish, it'll get disorganized again, so what's the point?" Oh, look. A *random noun at the end of this set of asterisks that is implied as being in my line of sight and has thus distracted me, proving to the Internet via the *action stars* how easily distractible I am. I may or may not be exaggerating my distractibility level, but you'll never know if you're just reading this, now will you? Fantastic, my asterisk-actions have gone all meta again, this is turning into insane babbling, yet I've suckered you into reading it. You really shouldn't have started. In fact, go back to the beginning of this tangent and just don't read it at all. You have my permission.*

3. Wow, I realize how damn vague the title of this is, so I could list hundreds of goals such as "Remember to blink occasionally when staring at computer screen" "Eat" "Uncross legs because left foot is currently falling asleep" et cetera... "soon" is too subjective. I suppose I mean "hopefully in the course of the next week but probably extended to the entire summer".

Aaaaand this is a wonderful demonstration of why I cannot set goals. I find a way around my own goals. I want to accomplish them but I don't. This may be my subconscious differentiating the really important goals from the ones I just *think* I want/have to do, or my subconscious is a lazy asshole. I'm going with the latter.

I'm entirely aware of a.) how whiny and pointless this is, b.) how sadly ironic it would be if I drafted this and never posted it. So, I am c.) totally ignoring a.) in favor of eliminating b.) and accomplishing point 1.

I've barely edited this. . . think of it as a raw glimpse into my scatterbrained mind. Aren't you glad you don't have to live here? :D

FIPOGI!

I kind of want to be an elderly Austrian man just so that I could do this to my facial hair.

Summer! (Or, Cake at a Funeral)

It.

Is.

Summer.

Eff Yeah.

What I'm Probably Going to Do All Summer:

Sleep during unreasonable hours.

Eat food with no regard for time-appropriacy. (Croutons and ranch dressing for breakfast!)

Watch movies. (This part doesn't have anything to do with summer, just gives me more time to devote to it.) Memorize them, possibly. (This, of course, is summer-centric. Boredom and juuuust the right amount of OCD, a quotes/trivia addiction, heat and the time in which to do this? I will.)

Read. (Again, for fun. With more time. There's also some school-required summer reading, which leads me to my next point: . . .)

In Which My Plan Actually Works

What's been keeping me from reading Pride and Prejudice for a while has been the following logic: "We're going to be forced to read that at some point. It's so school-y, yet it sounds awesome. Who is this Darcy fellow, and why does he inspire such literary lusting? Might as well wait it out and be surprised then."

Oh, lookie. Two birds flying parallel to each other. I have a stone. Guess how many of the metaphorical birds end this tale dead? Two.

I win.

The Social Acceptableness of Mixing Sad Occasions with Cake

Think about it. Your loved one has just died (hypothetically). Which do you want more right now, to wallow in your own misery, or eat cake? I'd choose cake. (I've been to 3 funerals in my life. Actually, one was a memorial service. And the other was a wake. And the real one was when I was six. None for anyone particularly close to me, either. What do I know?) And yet no one has combined the two. Or have they? *Googles* Alright so they have. It's an Amish thing though. The dead person's relatives were given food (including sometimes cake, which they had their own recipe for, like everything Amish) by their friends/neighborhood/Amish community so they didn't have to cook in their time of mourning. How sweet. But that's not what I'm talking about. Say someone dies. Their immediate family is presumably pretty damn depressed. Make them a cake. Not a sympathy cake, don't frost words onto it, that's cheesy. Their favorite flavor of cake, just give it to them to do with whatever they want. Cake makes people happy. Or at least is a comforting type of food, don't you think?

An unrelated video about Hitler being a painter that segues into cake/death. Maybe this is why I love Eddie Izzard. Our segueing technique is similar. And he is British. And unexplainably attractive.

Things Which Keep My Brain From Melting

Ahhh, I haven't blogged in so long. Every attempt at explaining WHY I haven't blogged in so long prior to this has turned into just completely awful nonsense, and I'm not going to try to make much of a point with this particular post except to say I might not be blogging as frequently here because brain-comsuming finals are-- as their name suggests-- consuming my brain. So, having run out of coherent thoughts for today, I present you with various distractions:

Nerd rap. Yeah. w00t.



Are you scared for your sanity yet? VEGETABLES!!!



Hooray, physical violence!



Horrifyingly adorable, this is.



. . . xD. If you haven't seen this movie, I suggest you fix that.

Pants vs. Shakespeare

I know I haven't blogged here in a while, sooo...

HAPPY NO PANTS DAY!

Not that I participated. Just thought you should know. I wonder if this is international, sort of a "make of it what you will" situation. Because in the UK/other English-speaking foreign lands possibly, "trousers" and "pants" are not synonyms. (I've watched enough britcoms to have figured this out... See? Television is educational, children. *nods knowingly*)

Aaaaannd that's why I haven't blogged. Because now the first post will be THIS instead of a brilliantly deep quote-related blog. **side, since I'm thinking about it: There are certain words that I will always pronounce with a British accent, whether in my head or in speech. Words include: (1.) Any Shakespearian preposition e.g "hast" "wilt" "dost" "thou/thine/thy etc. archaic words that I use to just be melodramatic. (2.) Brilliant-- referring either to exceptional smartness or an intensified version of "good" and (3.) Rubbish. Just. . . rubbish. (4.) Others I use sporadically but am lumping under this number that I can't think of, because there are a lot more than that. I like having an excuse to speak with any accent, it just so happens that my "British" accent is the one I perceive as best. And it's fun. I'm a lunatic, but I'm happy.** There was no point to this except to ease my own carefully-crafted bloggy-guilt, and as you can tell by now this blog is about nothing in particular. Yet I've suckered you into reading it, so let us continue:

Ummm.

Would you like a cookie?

No I didn't make them. I thought they were cool. Thank you, Google Images, for providing VIRTUAL REWARDS. Nomnomnomnom.