Teh Googlez

Dr. Google really does make everything better. Don't know what you're talking about? Google it. I can tell you to Google as many things as I want because it's not trademarked as a verb. Google that.

I have noticed my growing reliance on Google in all situations, which comes as an added bonus to having a smartphone addiction, I think.

Don't know how to get to Midtown? Google it (you've been there a thousand times, you should know by now. Also, somehow NO ONE ON THE INTERNET KNOWS THE HOURS.)

Don't know how to tell if a mango is ripe? Google it (It's comparable to feeling out the ripeness of a peach or pear).

Don't know if you should drink alcohol with your specific antibiotic? Google it (You probably shouldn't).

Paranoid about mixing certain cold medicines even though the doctor told you you could? Google it anyway (it's safe to take ibuprophen, acetaphetamines, and suphedrine together as long as each one doesn't have any traces of the other).

Don't know what that little hole in the top of your iPhone is next to the headphone jack? Google it (it's a mic, don't stick any foreign objects in it, for christ's sake).

Don't know whether the Indian shooting the star on a Tootsie-pop wrapper rumor is true or not? Google it (either way, still not sending it in).

Don't know what the sudden change in behavior of your beloved pet is all about? Google it (he's probably sick and/or just messed up).

Don't know what magna cum laude means? Google it (for MICA it's 3.75).

Want to know what Denis Leary looks like outside of Suicide Kings - in which he's totally smokin' by the way? Google it (meh).

Don't know how to spot knockoff headphones? Google it (you should have thought about that before you ordered them).

Wondering what Harold Camping's doing after the failed rapture? Google it (returned no juicy results).

Don't know what a D&C is? Google it (really wish I hadn't).

Wondering when The Guild season 5 comes out? Google it (NOT SOON ENOUGH DAMMIT).

Your iPhone thinks it's connected to a mystery accessory and drives you up the wall by turning itself on every thirty seconds? Goooooooggggggglllleeeeeeee iiiiittttttt.

(you got water in the connector, you dum dum)

see? SO MANY ANSWERS. Answers to everything I could ever want.

Shave-a-lot

When I was at Save-A-Lot earlier this semester, I got in line with a couple things behind an elderly black man with a shopping cart full of food. He told me to "go ahead, miss," and waved me ahead of him in line. I hesitated, but accepted because I wasn't sure what to do. As the lady rang me up, I said, "Thank you, you didn't have to do that."

"I don't have to do a lot of things," he said, shaking his head. "Some people privileged, some people ain't. That's how the world works." I shook my head yes, not knowing what to say to that true but uncomfortable statement. I paid for my food, told him to have a nice day and thanked him again, and made my way back to my apartment. This happened a few months ago, but it still pops up in my head and strikes me as particularly poignant.

some people privileged, some people ain't, isn't that the sad, sad truth.





on a funnier note,


a friend and I were in Save-A-Lot earlier this week and were trying to decide between Tostidos brand tortilla chips or the Save-A-Lot brand Senora Verde.

"We should probably just get the cheap Senora Verde kind, they probably taste the same," I said.

Without missing a beat, the employee stocking shelves next to me goes, "Hey. Senora isn't cheap - she may be easy, but she's certainly not cheap!"

I bust out laughing, pointed the chips at him, said "Touche," and walked away.

Oh, Save-A-Lot.

Shenanigans on Baltimore public transportation

So today.. let me preface this story by saying that it was not cold temperature-wise, but the wind-chill factor made it FREEZING.

So there was this kid sitting on the light rail wearing only a tee-shirt. The guy behind him, this skinny, wiry-looking white guy (who is listening to loud rap music on his cell phone speaker), starts picking on him for not wearing enough clothes.

"Hey man, didn't you bother to check the weather before going out of your house? It's a little cold for that, don't you think?" Etc.

The guy sitting across from him takes a break from putting his black hoodie over his face and staring creepily at me and proceeds to ream him out for talking so rudely.

"Don't be a dick, why you gotta be a dick, leave him alone, if he was my son I would kick your ass," etcetera.

Jess and I just look at each other, trying really hard not to laugh. They keep up this pathetic fight in slurred, inarticulate sentences while the poor kid sits in between them, obviously really uncomfortable.

"I wasn't being a dick, was I?" the guy asks.
"No, but leave me out of it." The kid responds.

Black hoodie guy gets off in Mount Washington, and as soon as he leaves the train, the first guy starts waxing poetic about how black hoodie guy was lucky that he "caught him on a good day, in a good mood, otherwise he'd beat him up with a knife, he wouldn't even make it off the train."

True gems such as: "Spoken by a true addict, junkie mu'fucker. Junkie mu'fuckers like him, I'm glad they're junkies, let 'em all fuckin' die, they're all fuckin' bitches, the world don't need no more bitches, they just suck the system dry until it's gone."

He then leaves his seat and walks into the empty front of the car, where he grabs the standing bars and proceeds to do pull-ups furiously while still yelling about the "Addict mu'fucker, who is he to tell me what to do, he's lucky I'm in a good mood, he's real lucky."

He continues to shout furiously about junkie mu'fuckers at this poor sweaterless kid and stomp around until he gets off at his stop. As soon as he leaves, Jess Sam and I burst into laughter. Too funny.

And then, as soon as we think the shenanigans are over, a voice comes on the PA system and tells us, "Because the trains are so behind schedule, we have to ask you to get off this train and wait for the next car." So we are thrust back out into the blasting cold wind for another 10 minutes, shivering and huddling for warmth. (and using Sam as a wind breaker!)

And then there was a coke bottle full of frothy piss rolling around on the car floor of the next train.

ALWAYS GOOD TIMES ON THE LIGHT RAIL!

I pre-ordered my iPhone 4 today!!!!! WooOooOoOooOOo it's coming around mid-July. Very Exciting.

On a different note, how would you explain an itch to someone who's never felt itchy before?

a phrase I enjoy: "cutting a check." It makes no sense, but it sounds very official and all that stuff.
a phrase I detest: "kick it." "kicking it" with someone. Although I guess "hanging out" makes just as much sense. But still.

zip-a-dee-do-dah

I just made the mistake of looking at my house and street on google street view while I am sitting here in the fox building with snow and wind whipping and whining and whistling through cracks in the windows and around the outside. Just sitting here cause it's cold and blustery outside and I don't want to walk back to my apartment. I'm so done with the snow and cold. It was novel and exciting the first three times it happened but now it's just an inconvenience.

The wind though, the wind I like. It also reminds me of home, the windstorms, the ficus tree in our backyard that blew over that one time. 

I... I... I have something to admit.

I'm a total photography groupie/wannabe.

I love being a total doofus amateur and just dicking around and taking pictures of everything.

my family calls me and my grandpa the paparazzi. It's kind of embarrassing, seeing as I'm dating an actual photographer.

I also have a little bit of a fibers hard-on. (Sam's word, not mine)

I really really really really really want to take garment design and learn how to make my own clothes but that means I have to take intro to fibers and that means I have to deal with the mean and condescending fibers people more than necessary. And I'm also way too incompetent to D-I-Y it. Even I can recognize that.

...well anyway. My allegiance to the Illustration department is (wavering) but still there.

I should probably go back to painting obnoxiously cute puppies and kittens now.

Yeesh.

Sigh.

This thought was just floating around in my mind lately... I know this isn't a new thing at all but it's pretty depressing how I keep seeing celebrities that used to be kind of cute/quirky/outlandish/weird/etc but now society and the media and even us as viewers or listeners or what-have-you have pretty much pushed, prodded and pressured them to shape and mold themselves until they've ironed out every little kink and are just picture-perfect. Then, all the magazines and celebrity news barf shows try to sell them as the "Hollywood success story - how I got thin/pretty/fashionable/normal!!!"

like Kelly Osbourne, for example... she always kinda showing up to things and walking around wearing kind of bizarre clothes, weird hair, total drug addict, yeah, she was kind of chubby or whatever, but she didn't really seem to give a shit about any of it.

And then, I was dicking around on this fashion blog the other day and I came across.......this:

ka-whaaa? Who is that and what have you done with Kelly Osbourne??

It's really sad - especially in this article, where she says "I took more hell for being fat than I did for being an absolute raging drug addict. I will never understand that." Cool, America... good to know where our real priorities are. Now, Kelly Osbourne is pretty obnoxious and has never been someone that I would say is important or should be a role model for anyone.... but still, she's a human being. And no one should have people leaning out of their car windows and screaming "you're fat!" at them.

I guess on that note... same goes for Susan Boyle...

Everyone was basically like "lolomgwtf wow you can't be famous looking like a hag like that so we're going to make you over and put you in some expensive designer clothes, cut your hair and make you look more hip and mysteeeeerious!"

like so:

and don't even get me started on how everyone was like "lolomgwtf she's ugly so she must be bad at singing!!!!!!!" and then were just soo shocked when she gasp! had talent and was a great singer.

UGH.

Sigh.

rarg

here is a list of things that I HATE WITH A FIERY PASSION OF A THOUSAND SUNS that have been happening a lot lately:

1. Getting shocked. Apparently, full carpeting + winter = getting shocked on EVERYTHING. I hate it!!! Sometimes elle will lean over to give me an eskimo kiss and our noses will shock each other! grr!

2. Sirens. Shitloads of snow + idiot impatient drivers = muchos sirens. I also found out why our corner is so firetruck and ambulance active: a.) we live right across the street from a retirement apartment complex. b.) There is a firehouse on our street that I did not know about. Whoopee, who knew.

3. Our doorbell. I hate that thing with a fiery flaming passion - maybe even more than the previous two things. It is so fucking loud and shrill that it makes me (and all my roommates) jump a thousand feet and shriek almost every time it rings. And people have still not grasped this fact that is is the demon seed doorbell from hell and liberally apply the doorbell-pressing. And it makes me want to slam the door in the face of whoever it is waiting out front.

Yeeeeeeeesh.

You know what else I hate? Being up doing master copy drawings at 4am. But I have no one to blame for that but myself. Bummer.

I hate poetry.

I hate cold sores.

I hate yappy dogs.

I hate the word vagina.

I hate the Sargent portrait staring at me from across the room going "noooo... how could you butcher me like thissssss wahh"

but I love Sargent. A lotttttt. Especially his charcoal portraits.

for the lulz

I saw a porn once where the main character was wearing this stripy shirt, and it looked really familiar. I realized that I have the exact same one hanging in my closet right now. Apparently I have the same clothing taste as an office lesbian dominatrix - Good sign or bad??

Plus Plus Plus...

I have something I have to get off my chest. (ha-ha)

I really can't decide if I like or resent this sort-of trend of 'Plus-size" models in magazines right now. On one hand, I am enjoying that they are showing more realistic-looking women, but labeling them "plus-sizes" when they are size 12s (and the average size of an American woman is 14) is pretty depressing. Also, the fact that magazines are all patting themselves on the back and pretty much saying "look! we have token fat girls! We're inclusive!!! Buy our magazine!!!" and the fact that they usually oversexualize the 'plus-size' models, putting them in lingerie and see-through things and having them pose naked also bothers me. The focus is so much on the actual body, all the "fat rolls" and other such "anomalies" that they seem to have forgotten that they're actually modeling clothes or other products. They even sometimes pose the models and direct the lighting so that it emphasizes their curves even more, trying to prove their self-promoting point. Crystal Renn puts it plainly:

""When designers and editors choose one fat girl to salivate over, and revel in her avoirdupois, I'm not sure how much it advances the cause of using girls of all sizes in a magazine,"

I think there's something really poignant in the fact that when Glamour posted the picture of the model sans-photoshop, with a little bit of (gasp!) belly-pooch and (gasp!!!!!!) meat on her thighs, the letters from women were overwhelmingly happy that finally someone showed a picture that was a realistic depiction of what a woman actually looks like.

My psychic powers are telling me that any negative notes sent in were all probably from (you guessed it) men. They complain that things like this are "glorifying obesity" and "not warning people of the health dangers of obesity" and other such bla-dee-bla-bla. Hysteria about obesity as if we're talking about Rosalie-fuckin'-Bradford here. Finding newer, not so sneakier ways to needle women about their weight guilt-free. You know, that's really rich, considering that the current fashion situation is glorifying dangerously skinny models that whittle themselves down until they collapse and die on the freakin' runway. So, they can take that and shove it up their asses, basically.

I try to think all this 'plus size' model stuff out, weight the positives against the negatives, but the one thing that my mind keeps going to is: 12 is plus size??!! are you serious?!? My pant size is 12+ and I do NOT, under any circumstances, consider myself plus-size, nor will I let a magazine and a ridiculous fashion industry tell me so. I want to be glad that there's media attention about normal-sized girls, but my mind keeps telling me that I'm slightly offended.

It's hard to put a finger on what I find offensive about all this hullabaloo.... The only way to describe it is: It's like, even though the magazines are being all "inclusive" or "diverse" or whatever they want to call it, it still feels like one giant backhanded compliment. Like, "we love you even though you're fat." As if after every punchy, glittery headline stating "plus size," or "diverse body types" or any other name for it, there's a little needling fashionista voice afterwards going "fat!" "fat!" "fat!" We love plus size ("fat!") models! This model is beautiful ("even though she's fat fat fat!") You get what I mean. Ugh. I think, seeing as the average american lady is a size 14, we shouldn't have to endure the indignity of being called a "diverse body type." Diverse? I'd say a size 00, 0 or 1 pant size is pretty freakin' diverse. How many people have you personally met who are a size 00? Right.

Well... on that note, if you couldn't tell, I am currently obsessed with: Crystal Renn

Here's a photoshoot with a skinny twit "straight-size model"

notice how Crystal Renn looks 100% hotter than the skinny girl in every single one. Hehe.

Also: I am in love with this Swimsuit Photoshoot.

Although I am aware that this looks like a pretty much direct rip-off of Rineke Dijkstra's Beach series:

No matter.

Uh oh, I'm being all FEMINIST again.. oops (that one's for you elle, heehee)

Then again, maybe I should stop tooling around on Jezebel and get to work.

ugh ugh ugh

I am trying to follow the coverage on the testimonies being given during the Prop. 8 trial, but every time I read a testimonial from people "protecting the sanctity of traditional marriage," I start steaming from the ears and have to stop in order to save my sanity.

I have nothing intelligent to say about the whole ridiculous issue (which should not even be a fucking issue in the first place) other than ARGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHASDJHSGDFJhIUYERTJKHASBDFKYUAGWEF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whatever happened to the idea of the separation of church and state??? Has everyone completely lost their minds?!?!?

If you feel like following the ridiculous balderdash that is the conservative party:

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/prop_8/

http://twitter.com/theadvocatemag

2010: A Cut Above The Rest

That was the motto for the Rose Parade this year. And I really reeally hope it's true, cause I think everyone agrees with me when I say we need it!

I painted my nails silver for the new year festivities. And Joan told me "Silver nails... I saw a movie where a girl had silver nails... oh, right, she was a prostitute."

I now possess ten hooker nails. And I am gosh dern proud of it.

Today was the most beautiful day, very appropriate for a start to a good year. (plus, there was a blue moon last night! Has to be some kind of omen.) The sky was a brilliant blue, with a few wispy clouds. The mountains, usually shrouded by smog, were in perfect clear view and I could see them all the way from south pasadena. They graced the sky on my drive back from Annabel's house and I sighed with a little bit of (bittersweet) happiness.

The sunset was magnificent! the entire sky was stained an orange-pink color, and the mountains looked as if someone had colored them in with an orange marker. So beautiful.

I tried to capture it on my phone, but it was difficult. I love how much I have come to appreciate the place I live since being gone. I just wish it wasn't so beautiful so I wouldn't miss it so much.

also: nothing makes me more angry than uneducated arguments. People who are angry and arguing just to be arguing. Or people who are so blindsided by one argument that they won't listen to the other side. There's always more than one side to something. Idealists. pure politics or ideals without being realistic or rational. like anarchists. people who are into something because it is convenient for them. Identity tourists.

honk hooooonkkkkkkkkk

I find it so interesting that we have these triggers that fill us with completely unreasonable incandescent rage. Did something happen when we were children to make us feel this way, or is it part of our personality, who knows.

Mine is when people honk their horns in their cars. Now, I'm a pretty non-confrontational person when something is annoying me. But, the other day, right outside my window, this guy started leaning on his horn. Like, really leaning on it nonstop for about 2 minutes. Which doesn't sound like a lot but when it's a REALLY LOUD HORN it's forever. I got so angry that I threw open my window and yelled SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU THINK PEOPLE DON'T LIVE HERE!??!?!?

I don't think he heard me but I was really unreasonably angry about it. I fumed about it to Allison for like 10 minutes after, like "motherfuckers don't think people live here and can't hear it, bla bla bla so rude and pointlessly obnoxious," etc etc, and it still makes me angry even thinking about it now.

We live on the corner of a very busy intersection, and I just can't seem to get over the amount of loud cars that pass by our windows. I'm guilty of this too, I guess, but people stop outside the intersection and we can hear the loud rap music in our apartment with the windows closed. The sirens probably bother me the most. A loud siren comes roaring down McMechen or Mount Royal pretty much every few hours every day, and it always unsettles me for a good while every time. Firetrucks and ambulances have the absolute loudest and most obnoxious horns in existence, and apparently people in Baltimore have forgotten the protocol for pulling over for firetrucks and ambulances, so they just leeeeean on their horns. So, in addition to the sound of sirens raping my eardrums, there's the added HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK HOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKK of the firetrucks. So, lovely.

Did I mention that I really, really, really, really hate car horns? Especially when people do it just to be obnoxious, and it's not just a perfunctory "hey, buddy, you're about to crash into me" kind of thing. That's one of the things that bothers me about east coast cities. People don't know how to drive.

Uhh...

okay Baltimore.

also: Funny times at the Inner harbor today...

1. Comic-con = freaks in costumes

2. Ravens gave = giant sea of purple and black

3. Zombie walk - gaggles of random zombies stumbling around going urrrg... brains......

comicon+ravens+zombie = lol.

ALSO: bought a pretty sweet print from This guy. John Tyler Christopher.. it's worth checking out! Very inspired by Mucha and Rembrandt.

wacked dreams.

I had another really strange, vivid dream last night. I don't remember much, it is kind of hazy now... but:

the first part involved climbing small mountains. In the dream I was excited and exhilarated when I reached the top. I don't remember what the goal was though.

the second part involved hiking in lush, green forests. There was some kind of machine device that would take you to whatever forest scene you wanted.. and there were rows and rows of square photos of beautiful forests with lush green plants and crystal clear lakes. Really picturesque forests, the kind you want to spend all your time in.

The last part of the dream found me at a summer camp. My campers were aged 12-13 years old. There were these two campers, 12-year old girls who were inseparable friends. One was blonde and thin and the other was dark-haired. Something was "off" about the blonde one, she had a very blank, wide-eyed stare and tiny mouth that made her look sort of like a zombie.

While looking around one time, I found a door in a large expanse of white wall that I hadn't known was there. Finding it unlocked, I opened it. To my shock, the blonde girl and the dark haired girl were naked inside, and they both stared at me wide-eyed before sort of backing off into a corner. I looked around the high-ceilinged room, which looked to be an extension of the camp's building. It was dark, and covering the walls was this really creepy shrine to boobs. There were pictures of boobs all over the walls, close-ups, far-away shots, just lots and lots of boobs. Creeped out, I moved farther back into the connected rooms. They were very dark, and hanging from the ceiling of each room was a different costume, hanging horizontally as if there was a limp person hanging in the air. I distinctly remember a jester costume and a witch costume. I realized that they were having some kind of lesbian sex cult going on in there, which involved costumes, which I remember thinking was really fucked up because they were 12 years old. At that point, the blonde girl appeared behind me, and she started trying to seduce me, all the while looking at me with her creepy blank-eyed stare. I started to back away quickly towards the door, and she kept coming towards me, till I finally reached the door and ran out and slammed it behind me.

That's when I woke up.

That was seriously, seriously creepy. I already don't like middle schoolers but... sheesh.

Tommy Decker

I had this sad dream last night where I had a baby.

It wasn't a normal pregnancy, I remember I was just pregnant for 2 weeks and just popped out a baby. There weren't many details concerning that. I felt hesitant but excited, ready to embrace this new challenge. I remember at first it was a normal size baby, I named him Tommy. He was an adorable baby with bright blue eyes and an adorable smile, and I loved him instantly, I have a distinct memory of holding him in my hands and looking at his face. Then, in the rest of the dream, I remember he was shrunken so that he was a tiny baby, something that you could fit in the palm of your hand.

I had a lot of close calls where almost lost him - I left him somewhere, then came back and got him. I remember he was very cute, and he would burrow his tiny face and hands into stuff, and smile up at me. Then, at the end of the dream, I lost him. I left him somewhere, and when I came back I couldn't find him. I scoured my entire room and house looking for him, but I still couldn't find him. I was heartbroken. I went to the restaurant next door and told them to put up ads and call people in a desperate attempt to find him. Finally, some lady called me back, saying that she was so glad that she finally found the birthmother for her baby Tommy Decker. I got excited for a second, but then she said he was three years old, and I knew it couldn't be my baby, so I was sad again.

then I woke up, sad. And it still kind of depresses me to think about it. It's one of those dreams where the person you dream up is so vivid that when you wake up you kind of miss them. That's what it feels like with Tommy.

I have never wanted a baby. I have never liked babies. I have never been able to understand the concept of someone hating babies but only loving her own. But I think I get it now.

a dream like this has to be symbolic for something, right?

Hawaii ain't even a real state!

I think if I keep hearing stories about birthers I will move to Canada. I mean... white people like threatening to move to Canada right?

Or Cuba, seeing as it's so strictly forbidden.

don't you think that if Obama was not born in the United States he wouldn't have made it all the way to presidency?? You'd think they had fact-checkers and vetters for those kinds of issues. That would be kind of a major error.

honestly... those who can't do, teach, and those who can't teach teach english, and those who can't teach english sit around their trailer park (excuse me - "mobile estate") and rant about inane conspiracy theories and politics all day.

I think I almost bricked my phone. thats kind of scary. I think its resurrecting itself right now. ah the wonders of apple.

oh my drink cup from my drunken french-fries and chicken-wings run on friday:

"we are happy to serve you at ANY hour. no questions asked."

thank you jack in the box. I'm truly touched that your establishment is a no judgment zone.

List of people who I don't understand why they are famous and wish they were not so I wouldn't have to see their face all the time.

MEGAN FOX (UUGGHHHHH whyyyyy skanky and grosss)

Perez Hilton

Lady Gaga

Demi Lovato (AAAHHHH)

Matthew McConaughey (vomit)

Paris Hilton (of course, no one really understands except for the fact that she's got a shit-ton of money and girls will practically kiss her feet to be "bffs" with her)