I want to kill everyone and everything. Back in a week or so, when the rage passes.
Archive for November, 2009
I’m walking innocently along–TO THE LIBRARY–when I pass this middle-aged man. He says hello, so I do as well. Then…this happens.
Middle-aged Man: Woo! You gotta fat ass!
MaM: No, no that’s a compliment! You don’t lose any of that, you hear!
Shit, I need to get that ipod fixed…
In two days, I will shove flavored bread into the bodily cavities of a turkey, cook the violated bird, remove it from the oven, SEVER ITS NECK, and then boil said neck to aid in the preparation of a sauce that will then be used to flavor the turkey’s flesh.
…Thanksgiving is so fucked up, I can’t even begin to describe it, y’all.
Okay, first let it be known that Robert Pattinson is the wind beneath my wings, the thing that keeps me going in a world full of chaos, etc.. And there is a reason for that (and it predates Twilight). I wish that I could invite that kid over to dinner, spread towels over all my furniture so that he wouldn’t destroy it with his BO, and then listen to him ramble while he smoked a bowl. But since that is unlikely to happen, I am glad that Twilight brings him steady employment. Because that means that I get all the cracked-out, greasy interviews my heart desires.
Omigod, y’all. I read the first 200 pages of Twilight. I saw the first movie. I know what happens in Breaking Dawn. I knew that there was no way in hell that New Moon was going to be a good movie, but I had no idea it could possibly be THAT BAD.
See, thing about Twilight is, it’s awful but it’s tolerable because it’s ALL awful. Bella is a black hole where characterization should be, Edward is a pedophile stalker, and everyone else gets so little screen time that you kind of wonder why they bothered to cast secondary characters at all. THINK OF THE SAVINGS! But I digress. Anyway, it’s so flat and cardboard and ridiculous that it passes back into being enjoyable because you’re all, “Seriously? SERIOUSLY?
New Moon, on the other hand, is awful because it has exactly one compelling character: Jacob. Jacob is like, actually funny and an actual person with actual interests! Also, Taylor Lautner has probably destroyed any chance he might have had at having biological children because of all the steroids he took in order to keep this role, but MY GOD, THE DEFINITION ON THAT KID. I don’t usually say this about people who are young enough that I could have babysat them, but YOWZA. Guys, he is even cute in his godawful stereotypical wig. I can’t handle it. Jacob is adorable and nice and appropriately tortured about the direction his life is taking–he’s upset about being a werewolf because there’s a girl on the reservation who almost had HALF HER FACE RIPPED OFF by her boyfriend when he got a little testy. And Jacob’s all, “Yeah, you know, it would be nice to not have to worry about that shit, I’m just saying.” But he’s still funny and innately cheerful because he is a well-rounded character with actual emotions unlike a certain rock-hard marble pedophile we could name.
But he gets totally boned because Bella is in looooooooooooooooove with Edward! For…no reason in particular! Even leaving that aside, though, he gets totally boned because he’s the only real person in the main cast, and it’s just like, even if Bella got some sense and decided to forget about her sparklepire, where would that leave Jacob? With the most boring, personality-lacking girlfriend ever, that’s where. Seriously, he only likes her because the script demands it–in real life, he would have found someone with interests outside of writing “Mrs. Edward Cullen” dozens of times inside her trapper-keeper.
In conclusion, I just feel bad for the kid, because he gets to spend two more books mired in this shit, and in the end he falls in love with Bella’s growth-accelerated vampire baby. STEPHENIE MEYER, WHAT DID THE NATIVE AMERICANS EVER DO TO YOU TO DESERVE SUCH TREATMENT?
PS: Did I mention that all of this is really racist anyway? Because it’s really racist. Seriously.
PPS: Have I mentioned that listening to poor Taylor Lautner trying to speak a made-up indigenous language to Bella “lovingly” is possibly one of the most hilariously awkward things EVAR? Because it was. Bless his heart.
The Rainbow Program is a subset program of the Independent Living Program that transitions teenagers from homelessness into self-sufficient adulthood. Youth live in apartments and receive counseling, vocational and educational training, and life skills development. Each teen must be working or enrolled in appropriate educational programs for a minimum of 20 hours per week. Teens have individualized service plans that outline goals and objectives for independence. Staff works with each teen to accomplish their individual goals. This program targets outreach to homeless youth and teens identifying as gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or questioning (GLBTQ). At CHRIS Kids these youth find a place to live where they can learn self acceptance and be open about who they are without fear or retribution.
- National statistics suggest that up to 56% of homeless youth identify as GLBTQ.
- This program is one of few GLBTQ Independent Living Programs in the Southeast
- This program receives no federal support
I grew up in the South. It is not a good place to be gay. It is not a good place to be homeless (“What, we have homeless people here?”). It is not even a particularly good place to be a teenager–the main forms of entertainment are tent revivals and cheap beer. I cannot imagine what it must be like to be teenage, GLBTQ, and homeless in the SOUTH.
Donate, donate, donate.
I spent most of my freshman year of college reading the classic literature of the ancient world (that is, Sumer and Greece), because that is just how they torture American college students: with Gilgamesh. Seriously, I couldn’t believe that shit. It was like, “And then he took her back to his cave and [30 lines missing] He was in the city, purchasing goats [70 lines missing].”
What the hell?
So here. Have a picture of some cats I know:
I am the worst person in the entire world to lend books to. There. I said it. It’s not that I spill things or dog-ear pages or anything like that; no, it’s worse. I KEEP THEM FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER.
And yet despite that known fact, my family keeps lending me books. Weirdos.
Seriously, I have had my sister’s copy of The Skull Beneath the Skin since…last Christmas? I think. Anyway, it’s been a loooooooong time. I’ve had my mom’s copy of The Fortune Cookie Chronicles for the same amount of time. I have not read either of them. YES I FAIL AT LIFE THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Anyway, I went to visit my parents for Columbus Day, and while I was there my mother forced Megan Whalen Turner’s Attolia books on me. Never one to turn down YA fantasy/historical fiction, I stuffed them in my suitcase and promptly forgot about them. Until my mother came up this past weekend and demanded them back.
No, not The Fortune Cookie Chronicles. Not Lord Rochester’s Monkey, which I have also had for almost a calendar year. She wanted me to return the books she’d lent me all of a MONTH before.
She graciously allowed me to read them while she was visiting, though, and now I get it. I really do.
Thus far, the Attolia books consist of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, and The King of Attolia. They all star Gen, a (you guessed it) thief, and if I told you anything else about them it would totally ruin the plot of the first book. ANYWAY. They rock. And do you want to know why they rock? Because they contain the sickest, most twisted love story EVAR.
DUDE. DOOOOOOOD. The lady in question CUTS OFF HER LOVER’S HAND. And that’s just the foreplay. It doesn’t get more hardcore than that!
I gave them back to my mother with a pang, although honestly? The only one I really wanted to keep was The Queen of Attolia. Because that’s the one where the “romance” really heats up, and I am a sick, sick girl.
Recommended for: Anyone who enjoys “The Masochism Tango.”
So I decided to buy a couple of copies of Heather Corinna’s S.E.X.: The All-You-Need-To-Know Progressive Sexuality Guide to Get You Through High School and College. I’m going to donate them to some local libraries, but…well. They’re just so popular around here!
What was much more interesting, actually, was Mimi’s reaction:
I haven’t been called racial slurs very often in my life; when you’re a middle class white girl from the South, it’s just not something that happens on a regular basis. The only time I distinctly remember being called a cracker, actually, was when I was in the fifth grade: a little boy declared that I was a cracker and he was a black-eyed pea, and that made him better than me. I recall being vaguely hurt by this, in the way that you tend to be vaguely hurt when someone you’ve just met takes an immediate dislike to you. Mostly, though, I was just puzzled. “Why did he say that to me?” I asked one of his friends after he’d run off.
“He has a bad home life,” she shrugged, and that was the end of that. My great experience with racism ended with me playing with the kid’s friends while he went home and sulked.
I understand that not every white person has my experiences; I understand that there are, in fact, white people who grow up being the only white kid at school, and that that’s usually not much fun. I’m not saying it’s okay when those white people ignore hundreds of years of American history and claim that they’re the ones who are really oppressed, but I get it. I understand taking an extremely traumatic personal experience and making it into a universal one. What I do not understand are the white people who grew up in situations like mine who try to claim that having individual black people dislike them or mistreat them is the same thing as being systematically oppressed. And I have a really ugly reason for not understanding that. Because my reaction has always been, “Why the fuck do you care if someone calls you a cracker?”