Red clearly means go

For the record, I fucking hate cyclists.

I understand that hating an entire group of people (without personally knowing everyone in that group) is... um... fuck. I feel like there's a word for just general prejudice that applies to a specific group.....

We're just going to go with "nonracist racism". Because I don't really give a damn what color their skin is, or where they're from, or who their parents are. If they're on a bicycle, wearing spandex jumpsuits and helmets designed to make them look cool (but really only make them look even more douchey), then I hate them.

There's a reason for this, too, beyond my impatience when stuck behind one of them. Let me tell you a story.

Yesterday I was driving home from work. In front of me was, you guessed it, a cyclist. Because I work 9-10 hour days, and was in no mood to drive 15 miles an hour all the way through my neighborhood, and there were no cars in the oncoming lane, I sped up and went around that self-righteous asshole. I ended up just missing the light I was trying to make about a half mile away. So I sat there, waiting for my light to turn green. As the opposing light turned yellow and I slipped Honda into first gear, preparing for my green light (because you should STOP at red lights, and GO at green lights, according to the RULES OF THE ROAD) that son of a bitch peeled around my car, and jumped in front of me. He made it to the other end of the intersection as my light turned green.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am totally down with sharing the road and all that jazz. But I am NOT down with people on bicycles pretending that they're cars, and holding up traffic, and being all pompous and spandexy, if they're just going to ignore the rules when it suits them.

They aren't called The Rules of Driving a Car. They're The Rules of the FUCKING ROAD. You know, that thing that they're riding their wheely, leg-powered, banana-seated nonsense on? Yeah, that's right, cyclists. YOU'RE ON A ROAD. ACT LIKE IT.

I mean, Jesus, they could at least have the decency to stop at a fucking red light (unless a Marta bus is nearby and decides to teach them a lesson... but that would be the last red light they sped through).

You know what? If the cyclists REALLY just insist on never stopping for red lights, that's fine. I can learn to live with that. All I ask is that they ride on the sidewalk, where things that don't have to stop for red lights (like pedestrians, or joggers, or stray dogs) tend to hang out.

The most frustrating thing is that I can't just give the assholes a friendly bumper tap to prove my point.

Jerks. 

Hello?... No, I'm writing a blog entry.... A BLOG ENTRY!... Nah, it's rubbish.

I recently started re-watching Lost. It was during the second episode that Sayid made a little speech about people tracking down batteries, and not using their electronics so they could save the power.

And then my brain was all, “You know what would be funny? If that dildo from HappyTrigger TV was there, with his comically giant cell phone.  It would be like, ‘Doo do do doo, doo do do dooo, doo do do doo doooooo….'

'HELLO?! HELLO?! No, I’m on an island! AN ISLAND! Yeah. Yeah the plane went down, some guy is giving a speech about batteries or something, it’s all rubbish. I SAID IT’S RUBBISH! Yeah, so what are you up to? Yeah? Wait, what?! HELLO?! HELLO?!!! Fuck. Phone’s dead.’”

I could just see everyone in the entire cast slowly turning their heads to look at him, with the most incredulous expressions on their faces. Then I laughed my ass off for a good 15 minutes.

I may have to make this happen... if only to prove that it's actually funny to people other than me.

In other news, Lucy is ridiculous. I was sitting on the couch with her the other day, and when I looked at her I was greeted by:

I laughed to myself, imagining that Lucy was sitting there for the past 10 minutes trying to get my attention with her dog brain, which would've sounded something like this:

"Mom! Mom, look at me! Mom, LOOK. My tail is a mustache! Hey, MOM. I mustache you a question! Hahaha! Mommmm, you aren't even looking!"

Then I turned to Lucy, and told her that her tail was not a mustache, and to quit screwing around. She rolled her eyes, sighed a little bit, and proceeded to spread out to the point of taking up a good 7/8 of the couch.

Jerkdog.







That's all for now. I have to go learn how to creatively edit two shows together (in order to prove that I'm more funny than totally mental), and keep my dog from making mustaches at me with her tail. It's going to be a very busy day.

<3,
-L

The Wii fit is a judgmental bastard.

People are so weird. I know this, because I often feel even more strange than the people I interact with. 

What are some of the bizarre things you think that you choose not to say aloud? You can comment anonymously if you feel awkward about it. Or shy. Or are planning to take over the world and would rather not be found out by the government (because those fuckers totally monitor this blog, due to it's insane abundance of pertinent information). 

There's a fun new post coming soon (that's called a teaser). Until then, I'm going to wait for comments and post the most awesome one. Bring it, bitches. Xoxo

If we all could just admit that we are racist a little bit, even though we all know that it's wrong, maybe it would help us get along.

I went to the birthday party of a friend Wednesday night, and found myself involved in a discussion about racism. Apparently, the guy I was talking to takes things WAY too seriously. It didn't help that he was a complete and total hipster. He even had the Captain Hook mustache, and the cheap, tacky, fur-lined earmuff cap. Poor sad, cookie-cutter hipster kid.


This whole conversation started with a rather hysterical (and quite racist) joke that I found far more amusing than he considered to be in good taste. As we sat down outside and the conversation inevitably turned toward the awful, serious racism that can be found in the world, all I could think was that it was a shame that I couldn't just break into the song from Avenue Q, and follow him around for the remainder of the evening, yelling singing it at him.


Now, I understand that racism still exists in this far from perfect world. I understand that people have to deal with all kinds of judgments and assumptions that are imposed upon them by others. I understand that that isn't exactly considered fun, or right, or good. I mean, shit. I'm a white girl that grew up in Atlanta. Just like everyone on the planet, I know what it feels like to be ostracized.


(I think Jane Elliot showed the effects of racism best. She's amazing. Watch this if you haven't seen it. Hell, watch it if you have.)

Haha, the dude in the foreground even has the same curly mustache!

Thing is, I also know that things are only worth the value you assign to them. It's like art. Or politics. (Upon comparing racism to art or politics, the kid that was arguing with me went off. "WHAT?! You think that racism, art, and politics are all the same thing?! What's WRONG with you?!" Dude, the only thing wrong with me is that I lack the freeze ray from Despicable Me, because that's CLEARLY the only way I will get you to LISTEN.) If people feel a piece of art is worth $X, they'll spend $X on it. If not, the piece becomes worth whatever the next person that comes along is willing to pay for it. In politics, a politician is only worth the people standing behind him/her. Without the people that support you as a political figure, you're not going to be elected.


That being said, I feel like racism is something that ought to be seen as so ridiculous and archaic that all you can do is write it off or laugh about it. It shouldn't be treated with solemnity, or slight, inward gasps, or eyes darting back and forth, or whispers. That gives racism power. It allows the serious, offensive racists to feel they have sway, and are correct in their judgments. That's bullshit. Instead, people ought to stop taking shit so seriously. Life isn't about covering our ears and wearing blinders when things make us uncomfortable. It's about fleshing it out and learning WHY they make us uncomfortable, and then dealing with them. So either meet racism with a laugh and not a second thought, or (if it's serious/violent/out of hand) meet it with a firm "No, this isn't how the world works anymore," and change that situation.


I tried explaining this, but I think my logic made the hipster-brains in Captain Tightpants Jr.'s head melt a little. He started spouting off random words that had nothing to do with what I was talking about. Maybe he was hoping to confuse me long enough to change the subject. The last intelligible word that he used incorrectly was "existentialist", as in: he was an existentialist and therefore felt as though racism was to be treated as something that either doesn't exist or is far too horrific to joke about. Unfortunately, choosing to argue where lines ought to be drawn, with a perfect stranger, no less, is not existential in the least.

ex·is·ten·tial·ism [eg-zi-sten-shuh-liz-uhm]
–noun; a philosophical attitude associated esp. with Heidegger, Jaspers, Marcel, and Sartre, and opposed to rationalism and empiricism, that stresses the individual's unique position as a self-determining agent responsible for the authenticity of his or her choices.


So, you see, his disagreeable and judgmental words (and general attitude) go entirely against his so-called "existential way of life". If you believe that everyone, as unique creatures, has the right to think whatever they want, how can you possibly argue something that's so ridiculous to such an extent?


Fucking doucher (I'm so eloquent when people piss me off).

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So, anyway, apologies for the lack of humor in this post. I just hate it when people perpetuate and give strength to anything negative, and then argue about how their doing that is supposed to help the situation. Why can't we just accept that everyone is a person, and that that's all that matters? Why does everything always have to be SO FUCKING difficult??? Ugh.

Well, tomorrow is my birthday. Tonight I'm being kidnapped by my darling TeriWife and SnarkMinion and taken to The Clermont in honor of said birthday. I'm hoping the rest of the weekend is just as full of crass, dirty, drunken shenanigans (at least until dinner with my parents and grandparents on Sunday).

Love to all. Best wishes and all that. And remember, Depeche Mode said it best. xoxo

Opposite over adjacent (that's a MATH joke)

The past few days have been pretty horrible. Not horrible like I was kidnapped and woke up in a single-engine plane, where I had to jump to avoid the zombies that clearly weren't zombies upon takeoff, but then only the zombies were wearing parachutes so I had to grapple with one while plummeting to the earth in order to not end up splattered all over the ground, and then I had to escape the zombies and make it back to a safe zone only to find out that the only food left on the planet is black olives (blech), and that humans are now required to sleep on beds of nails because the tyrannical government that took over because of the zombies decided that nails, discomfort, and olives are the best way to keep the general public under control.

It hasn't been that bad. But almost. And I didn't get to see any good violence or gore (not for lack of trying, let me assure you), so actually my hypothetical scenario is way cooler about par with the events surrounding the past few days. I suppose the silver lining is that shit times help one discover who in their life isn't worth a shit  is a complete liar  is not worth keeping around. Oh, friendship euthanasia.

But, you know, you can't count on men boys anyone other than yourself to make you happy. And your dog(s), of course. Don't even think about counting on my your cat for happiness, though. If they know you're after something, they'll restrict access to it. Like affection, or the keyboard of the laptop, or the ability to walk without tripping over said cat. Fuzzy little jerks.

So today, I'm grateful. I'm grateful for my friends that are worth a shit. I'm grateful for my giant dog, despite the bruises her wagging tail leaves on my legs (seriously... I can't wear skirts to work, for fear of gasps and concern). I'm grateful for my spaz of a fox/puppy. I'm... appreciative of Rabs, and her endless entertainment and cat-snark. I'm grateful that it's 5 o'clock somewhere, because this waxing poetic bullshit HAS to be alcohol-induced (seriously, I'm not this gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that).

So the past few days have sucked more than a zombie apocalypse with tyrants and nail-beds and olives as the only source of food. But it's okay. Because alcohol is cheap I'm loved. And I have bruises on my legs to prove it.