Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

In Search of Bacchus

May 7, 2009

For my final entry, I thought I would share with you all an eccentric hobby of mine. While I travel, I am always on the lookout for Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and theater. Allow me to share with you a very small bit of my collection of images documenting my encounter with the god. These are from my Florence and Paris collection:

One of the statues is that of a Maenad, one of Dionysus’s followers.

This is a fun little hobby, and I suggest you try it out.

Well… I guess I’d better get back to packing.

Cheers,

-Michael

A Scene from Gubbay Hall

May 7, 2009

We spend all of our lives trying to move from one place to the next. Or at least I have so far. I cannot be satisfied where I am. I move in to a place, I unpack, I sit in the chair. I stare out the window. Make a cup of coffee. Sigh. Go outside. Have a smoke. Watch the sun set behind my new neighborhood. The next day, the room is a mess, I’ve accidentally blown out the power, and I need to get the hell out of there.

The dorms over in Middlesex University in the northern suburbs of London were called halls. I know the difference in language is slight, but the little changes in terms added up over time. I found myself constantly jingling from the large amount of change that the British use in their currency system. I was not sure what the difference was between one quid and one pound; it turns out they meant the same thing.

Simon cracked open another tall can of Stella and looked at me with a dim twinkle in his eye. The room was a chaotic mess of rubbish, bitter, and wankers (which was our lot). I was finally starting to understand more than three words at a time that came out of Simon’s mouth; his accent was thick, but not nearly as indecipherable as Alex’s, who was from Manchester. We were discussing the differences between American and British slang. I was trying to keep up with the Brits as they spewed out talk in their strange code.

“Yeahp, Alex is a chav,” Simon mumbled, smiling.

Alex hit him on the arm. “Ye best not listen to this bloke,” Alex laughed, reaching for another beer. “He’s a bloody tosser.”

I frowned. “Tosser?”

Alex laughed. “Ye know. A wanker.”

I was still confused. Alex, sensing that his insult was lost in translation, made a vulgar gesture with his free hand. “Ye know, when there’s no tart around, ye have a wank. Yer tossing. Simon is a tosser.”

I nodded. The room erupted with laughter.

It turns out that a chav is a derogatory term for someone of the lower class. Chav seems to be the British equivalent of the American white trash. When I was hanging out with that crowd, generally I did not hear them refer to each other as blokes or chaps. But there were a hell of a lot of tossers and chavs. Oh, and of course, I was the token yank of the group. They flattered me.

Selective memory, I suppose. Paired with some wanderlust.

-Michael

Got Text?

May 6, 2009

Texting is the new way to communicate, and I have no doubt it’s here to stay. Personally, I have a theory that people use text as their primary source of communication because they don’t want to talk on the phone. 

Anywho, texting plans vary, but I go with unlimited texting. That way there is no risk of me going over my limit.

Here’s a link to an article on girl who went a little crazy with the texting….

http://newsfeedresearcher.com/data/articles_t16/phone-text-dena.html

Oh how things have changed since I was a kid……

May 6, 2009

I hate to sound like a grandma here, but when I was a young girl….we didn’t have texting, twitter, Facebook, MySpace, or the IPhone. And if you had a cell phone you were damn lucky or rich. Either way your cell phone got horrible reception because cell phones were just coming out back then, and most of them sucked.

When I was a kid there was one family computer that everyone shared. There were a few exciting things you could do online. Send emails, send e-cards, or go on Ebay.

If my friend’s wanted to get a hold of me they called my house phone, and asked my parents to speak to me. If I wasn’t home then they couldn’t find me. There was no Facebook or Twitter status to establish my whereabouts. No cell phone number where I could be reached. The communication train started and ended with my home telephone.

Moreover, my friends and family knew what was going on in my life because I did something wild and crazy…I told them face to face. There was no middle man. When my high school boyfriend broke up with me my friends found out because they saw me blubbering like an idiot in the cafeteria NOT because my relationship status changed on my Facebook page.

I love most of the new technology available to us today. I especially love my Ipod touch with all my heart and soul. However, sometimes I miss the days where status, and friends weren’t defined by social networking sites. Back in my day you knew who gave a shit about your life because they took the time walk right up to you, and ask what was up.

Good Writing Tips by ME!

May 6, 2009

After writing for a while I developed, and picked up some good habits as writer which are worth sharing.

1. One glass of wine can loosen the tongue, but you don’t wanna end up slobbering all over the page.

It starts with one glass, then two, then three, and the next thing you know your wasted and pouring your heart out in a non-sensible manner. When writing keep it at a two drink minimum.

2. Carry around a small book in which you can write down ideas or quotes.

You never know when something will inspire you or piss you off. For that reason alone, always have something you can write down ideas in. That way you won’t forget the ideas later.

3. Don’t publish your work onto a blog or the web until you’ve proofread and waited a week before posting.

Sometimes blogs are like the random guy we shouldn’t have made out with at the bar. We wake up the next morning reeking of tequilla as our inner voice screams “What were you thinking?!?!”, and blogs can be just like that random guy. Think twice before you post on line. After all, your blog stays online  forever.

4. Change names.

If you write true stories (like me!) change the names, and in severe cases get permission.

5. Find someone honest to edit and criticize your work.

The truth hurts, but that is too bad! Writing isn’t for pansies. You need to have the best possible product out there, and sometimes that means taking some verbal blows from someone who is more talented than you.

And there you have it. Five easy tips for better writing practices. All of them are up for adoption, and are ready to be taken into your loving home.

A twitter is a twitter does.

May 6, 2009

When my boyfriend first introduced me to Twitter I told him it was a stupid idea. Despite my initial feelings toward Twitter I signed up anyway. And I have to say I’m quite fond of the little bugger.

People say that those who sign up for Twitter are stalkers, and I disagree. Twitter has only your screen name, location (mine is listed as anywhere, but here), and a maximum of 140 characters of whatever is on your mind at the moment.

No relationship status, no age, no sex, no likes or dislikes, and one very small picture of your own choosing. Twitter reveals very little, and is the least stalkerish of the social networking tools.

Twitter becomes an addicting way of sharing your thoughts with friends. And while I once thought Twitter was dumb I now can’t stop updating the damned thing.

My Internet Date from the planet cheap.

May 6, 2009

After discussing Internet dating in class I thought I would share my own experiance with Internet dating and here it is:E-harmony, Match.com, Cupid.com….these are the building blocks of internet love. However, these sites cost mad dollars. Love ain’t free anymore. In fact, love is pretty fucking expensive. A membership to a dating site can cost you over a hundred bucks for six months of belonging to a site that promises you love or at least an intimate encounter.

You are the prospective dater, and by pulling out your VISA you are paying for the “hope” that one of those online users who browses your page is the love of your life, special somebody, soul-mate, or hot-fuck.

I don’t know about you , but I’m fucking broke. Seriously, tapped out…the well is dry! Ya know…one paycheck away from a rubber chicken, and a hotplate.

And that’s where Plentyoffish.com comes into play. It’s free, and get this, 50% of Plentyoffish.com’s members found love on the site. Shit, I already felt warm and fuzzy inside at the thought of something being free.

“You should sign up for Plentyoffish.com so you can remember what it’s like when someone is really into you” suggested my good friend Brandi. Truth be told, I hate dating sites. Really I do. Dating sites are the last bus stop before Desperartion City.

But…it was winter break, and the site was free afterall…

I signed up for Plentyoffish.com, and listed my idea of a good first date as:
“Anything where I don’t have to think, and don’t end up in a dumpster by the end of the night.”

You’d be suprised how much unwanted attention the above statement got my profile.

The influx of creeper mail poured into my free dating website like milk into your morning bowl of fruit loops.

A guy named Alex began to contact me, and he SEEMED normal. And wasn’t bad-looking judging by his picture on his webpage.

He called me, and I blew off his call and never called him back. Alex musta been hard-up for a date because he kept calling. Eventually, I answered and here are some dimlights from our phone conversation:

Alex: So what are you looking for?
ME: Honestly man, I have no fucking idea what I’m looking for.
Alex: I work at a company fixing printers and stuff. I get paid ten bucks an hour.
ME:ohhhhhh.
INNERME: whoa. Big dreams fulfilled! 
Alex: I wanted to know if I coould take you out on saturday?
ME: You can meet me at a club that my friends and I are going to in Philly if you want.
INNERME: I’m not going out with this freak alone.

That Friday, Alex met me, and my friend and her boyfriend. Alex was standing in the lobby of the club dressed in akward dark green sweater paired with what looked to be Jordache brand jeans, and brown work boots. Not exactly what what a man should wear for a night out on the town.

He did NOT look like his picture on the internets!

We all walk up to the bar, and he orders a shot of tequilla. I order a 2$ U-call it pinnapple and vodka drink. When the bartender went to charge him for my drink he said “No, we’re seperate.”

And that’s where I envisioned him walking into HELL, and burning alive.

How are you going to ask a bitch out, and not pay for even ONE drink, and expect to get anything besides swift kick in the ass as you walk out the door? As far as I was concerned the date was over.

Unfortuntly, Alex was really interested in me, and I was forced to feign conversation with him.
Alex had a few choice things to say. 

Let’s play a game. 
The game is called “Alex the Simpleton.” The game is comprised of Alex’s staements and my internal (and some external)responses to those statements.

Alex the Simpleton likes bums because they don’t have to report to the goverment.
(Oh yay. A man looking to avoid responsibility.)

Alex the Simpleton just wants a house in the woods.
(People who live in the woods get murdered)

“I’m sarcastic too” says Alex.
“Oh yeah? I really don’t see it.” I respond.
“No, I am sarcastic. I just don’t want to be an asshole.” he says.
“It’s okay. Be an asshole. I want you to.” I say to him as I await for him to back up his shit.
“Nah…” says Alex as he backs down from my verbal challenge.

“I was going to be an Interior Designer..” says Alex the Simpleton.
“Oh really. Are you still going to pursue that?” I ask.
“No” responds Alex the Simpleton.
If you are going to use the word “was” in a sentance it should be applied to something you actually did. For example: “I was a brain surgoen until an aligator ate both my hands.”

Alex the Simpleton asked me if I like space (universe..planets, stars etc.).
( What do you say to that? No, I’m really against solar systems. That’s like asking me if I like chairs)

“Do you like to star gaze?” asks Alex.
“Uh….stars are cool.” I respond.

Alex the simpleton likes to talk about how he likes to have “Deep conversation” and drink wine because it makes him feel sophisticated.

Alex the Simpleton tells me that I seem like a classy lady. 
(I counteract his statement by telling him that I’m not classy at all, and I enjoy swearing in front of children.)

“I like to go muddn'” says Alex.
“Whats muddn?” I ask.
“It’s where you get in a truck, and let it skid in the mud, and you get tossed around.” He answers.
“Oh so muddn’ is like goin on a carnival ride without having to pay money.” I say.
“Yeah!” responds Alex.

Alex is a cyclist. I know this because he told me at least three times, and kept trying to explain to me what a cyclist was even though I told him I knew what it meant. “You ride a bike. I get it.” I said.

Alex the Simpleton can NOT take a hint. 

Even after I tell Alex I don’t want to dance with him because I feel it would be akward.

Even after I walk away he continues to stare at me.

Finally he leaves, and sends me a text message that says he really wants to see me again, and likes how straight forward I am.

Dating sites turn my stomach. The thought of some kind of contrived dating situation makes me want to vomit uncontrollably all over myself. Meeting some stranger in a public place, and trying in vein to search to for common ground is about as painful as a route canal. In fact, I’d take the route canal over internet dating anyday. At least when it’s over you get drugs, and a free tooth brush.

Poor Alex. That boy didn’t stand a chance.

Congrats! You have a uterus!

May 6, 2009

demimoore.jpg

 

Believe it or not, when this magazine cover came out it was a big deal for two reasons. Number one, Demi Moore is naked in this picture. Number two, she’s also pregnant.

 

In the entertainment world when a celebrity is revealed as being pregnant (depending on how famous the celebrity is) it causes a media circus.

 

Every week Angelina Jolie is accused of being pregnant.

 

Everyone wants Jennifer Aniston to get pregnant and know really knows if she even wants to have kids!

 

Gwyneth Paltrow has a baby, and names the kid “Apple” and this “news” circulates on all the celebrity magazines. Honestly, I don’t care if she names her kid “potato” that’s her kid’s burden to bear, not mine.

 

Personally, I love celebrity magazines. However, I’m sick of the glorification of celebrity pregnancies. Celebrities are just like everyone else except for the fact that they are better looking, have more money, and have better lives. But pregnant celebrities should not be treated as if they are giving birth to the Messiah. Or as if their spawn will be super talented or good looking. 

 

Many women get pregnant, and no one gives a shit. I don’t see why Jessica Alba’s baby is any more different than a baby I see on the street. They’re just babies! They haven’t done anything yet!

Happy Cinco De Mayo..another excuse to drink!

May 6, 2009

Cinco De Mayo is observed in the U.S. by taking our closest friends to our nearest bars, and getting so drunk that we forget our social security numbers. And I just wanna say how I am amazed at America’s ability to take holiday’s and events and turn them into drinking extravaganzas. Don’t believe me? How bout some examples to back my point?

Holidays and events which involve a significant amount of drinking:

St. Patrick’s Day aka let’s throw some food coloring into our Bud Light, and pretend we’re celebrating something as we wear green t-shirts, and flash strangers for beads.

New Years Eve Let’s be honest, New Years Eve should be called “We have to drink ourselves into oblivion to forget how bad this year was” 

Thanksgiving Eve Not all people are aware of this fact, but the eve before Thanksgiving is actually one of the biggest drinking days of the year. Why? Well, it’s always on a weekday, and people have off the next day for Thanksgiving. That mean’s you can get schwasted, and sleep off your hangover the next day while the head female in your household kills a turkey.

Super Bowl Sunday Food+beer= Football Sunday. Nuff’ said.

The Fourth of July  Celebrating America’s Independence? Yeah, that’s pretty cool. Watching fireworks with my FWB as I fade in and out as a result of too many red, white, and blue jello shots? And free hamburgers all day?  SOLD!

Halloween: What’s better than getting wasted, and partying like it’s 1999? Dressing up like a sexy pirate, or ALF while you do it, of coarse!

Cinco De Mayo I’m actually in favor of this holiday because it’s the only time Coronas are on special. God Bless Mexico.

Christmas I went to a Christmas party, and I have no idea how I got home. I also drank four bottles of champagne by myself on the actual day of Christmas. Nothing sends me into a fit of alcoholism like spending money, and spending extended time with my family members. Holidays equal stress. Alcohol relieves stress. The End.

That leaves us with Easter, and President’s Day, Memorial Day, and Labor Day.

Well, we already that on Memorial Day we get drunk, and go swimming to celebrate the summer. On labor day we get drunk, and mourn our loss of summer.

This year Obama’s Inauguration was turned into a keg party complete with celebrity performances.

And I think if we give the Easter Bunny a bottle of Schnapps’s we can complete the circle of excuses to drink.

Prices are Writing on the Menu

April 28, 2009

Relating to the the previous post, “Do You Speak Engrish?” I found this sign outside of a cafe in Verona, Italy. 

reccommended-retail4

I think it means that the prices vary when you sit inside or outside. But obviously that’s not exactly what it says. In written word or language, when things get lost in translation, not only do their meanings change, but they sound downright stupid.  

I guess it’s entertaining, I mean I got such a kick out of the sign that I took a picture of it, but for those of us looking for jobs in the writing industry, maybe we shouldn’t be so worried about the current economic situation. If whoever  wrote this sign can get a job, so can you.