Sunday, February 07, 2010

Sunday, December 27, 2009


Every year, I tell my family that I'd really prefer not to go on the traditional family vacation down to the Virgin Islands, and every year I manage to somehow get guilted in dragging my sulking self up at 6am the day after Christmas to spend 4-10 days in the tropics. Of course, no one I have ever met actually understands my plight. It's always "Oh, how lucky you are to be going there!" or "Oh that's just wonderful!" and I have to smile and agree with them because if I say anything otherwise I'm clearly a spoiled brat. No, No it's not wonderful. There was a time when it was wonderful, of course, but those days are long gone. Now, family vacations just mean I have to spend several days in solitary confinement with my neurotic relatives in a cell phone deadzone with nothing to do except swim, sleep on the beach, and go out to dinner with them. One day we might go out on a boat or go into town, but honestly that's it- we lie on the beach and do nothing for several days. It is an epic waste. Normally at least one fight occurs, so with no other distractions I'm left brooding about it for at least double the normal time period. While most people would revel in the opportunity to do so many new and exciting things, 20 years of the exact same routine has left me so jaded that I honestly could care less. After two days, I'm already in a horrible mood, counting down the days till departure, and keeping up the mental mantra of "get me the fuck off this island" as if I were actually shipwrecked.

I don't care if I sound spoiled but I have yet to see how nice weather and a first class ticket compensate for this. Luckily I've had no problem drinking here since I was 15, but that's pretty much the only available coping method.

Infact, I've decided I prefer summer in New England to tropical vacations. After winter I feel like I've really earned the heat.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

But...Why Mario!?

So recently a friend of mine decided to time how long it took him to get 120 stars in Super Mario 64. Now my interest in video games has peaked significantly compared to around this time last year, but there is one thing I still don't get: Why Mario!?

I mean, if you're looking for really awesome graphic battle scenes this is obviously not the place to find it. The locations are creative and the stars and characters are cute, but that's pretty much it. And if you're looking for an exciting adventure, well, you're probably just going to end up rescuing Peach for the fiftieth time, or following some other random-ass plot like finding a baby that the stork dropped in the wrong spot, or scrubbing up graffiti. I mean really, who comes up with this stuff? How does it actually sell well? And to teenage boys?

And then there's Mario himself- for starters, he's cruel to animals. I mean had he not mistreated his poor little pet ape in the first place then half of the problems he has to deal with wouldn't have even developed. We're all supposed to empathize with him because he's a plumber and supposedly just your average joe, but when you and all of your friends live in castles that really just makes you a total poser. Not to mention you're clearly loaded or where else would you get the money to keep up your immense drug habit. C'mon, all those magic stars and rainbows? the mushroom kingdom? I'm no fool.

Finally, if you're going to risk your life (lives?) to rescue a chick that means one of two things: either a.) you're banging her, or b.) you wish you were banging her. So far Mario has rescued Pauline, Princess Peach, and Princess Daisy. This is my interpretation of events: Pauline was officially his girlfriend so she was clearly putting out and there's no shame in that. Soon afterwards, however, she dissapeared. She was probably sick of being number two to Mario's "just friend" Princess Peach, who has managed to get Mario to come save her pink little tush on a variety of occassions. And for what? A peck on the cheek and some cake? Totally pussywhipped. And then there's Princess Daisy. Ew, really dude? She's with your brother.

this* I would pay to see. But until then, I think an explanation is definitley in order.

Oh Peach, you ho...

*Wait... she's has to get the Vibe Sceptor? Uh.. double entendre much? And she fights with her feelings? Screw that. I mean jeez you might aswell at least create some sort of "PMS" wildcard while you're at it.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009


Recently Located: All over my appartment


Directive: K.O.S.


I kill at least two of these BBs a day in my bedroom, yet somehow, there always seems to be two more spinning around my bed. My Bed! Ew! They currently dominate the airspace above the kitchen sink, and the bathroom is the only remaining uninfiltrated base. I don't even want to think about what's happenned in my nasal cavity while I sleep at night. If I see another one I think I am going to lose my mind. Silly Europeans with no screens on their windows; this has to stop. From here on out, this means war.

PS- I think the AE is getting to me...

Monday, November 23, 2009

Fuck Buddies

(Or "If I'm Ever Asked to Give a Speech Inwhich I Impart Deep, Life-Learned Wisdom upon Youth, This will Surely Be It")

Today I was talking with a friend of mine who was faced with a common decision: should she or should she not make plans to hook up with someone, despite the fact that she had been consistantly sleeping with someone else almost everyday for the past month. While the obvious answer is "yes, why not, you're just sleeping together," it provided me with the opportunity to do some serious thinking about the term "Fuck Buddies" and it lead to some pretty startling revelations.

I have always been an advocate of the great, clean cut simplicity that the term "fuck buddies" or any variation thereof seems to offer. While most people argue that just trying to keep things at that level will ultimatley fail- either resulting in a more meaningful relationship or one person desiring a more meaningful relationship and being sorely dissapointed, I disagree. Call me an idealist, but I honestly believe that it is possible in this world for two people to maintain a steady sexual relationship, and even maybe a simultaneously normal one too, without having things get too messy.

But why do things get messy? I think I've figured it out. You see, even though both parties will gladly acknowledge that they are each others' "fuck buddies" (or booty call, or FWP, or what ever they've decided to call it) and honestly admit to anyone else that they're using the other person to at least a small degree, they would hate to really think the same thing of themselves. It all depends on the way each person looks at it. While most people have no problem with "they're physically attracted to me but for some reason or another have no desire to be in a relationship" (the core basics of your average fuck buddy/FWP/BC situation) they may well have a problem with "When they're really feeling desperate and have run out of all hotter options, that's when they call me up!" or "They have a medical condition where they're just really horny all the time and have to take it out on someone!" (both of which may well be hidden or not-so-hidden details in such a relationship). In sum, It has very little to do with how much you like your fuck buddy, but very much to do with how much you think your fuck buddy likes you.

The key then, to maintaining an ideal and long lasting fuck-buddy relationship, is not nearly as simple as one might think. It requires either a.) a thorough, and at least semi-respectful understanding between two people that may actually not be so easy to find with just anyone, or b.) an intricate and careful manipulation- a balance of feeding the other person's ego just enough so that they'll enjoy sleeping with you and not feel like a tool, but not excessively so that they think you might actually want something more out of the relationship. In the latter sense, the ideal fuck-buddy relationship, therefore, might actually be a surprisingly challenging thing to maintain. Furthermore in the latter case, an ideal and lasting fuck-buddy relationship actually never lets its members see it for what it truly is in too much detail, even if they both well know the basics what's going on.

To conclude, while sex drive is obviously a key factor in perpetuating a fuck-buddy based relationship, ego and self-esteem can actually be just as important.

Hm. Fascinating.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

My Dignity < A Spoon

In writing this blog, I've made no secret of being occassionally discontent with my, uh, "subpar" personal life. I realize bitching about this kind of stuff gets old pretty fast, so I've tried to cut down as of late, but the following was too good to pass up:

Today for lunch, I stopped at a small convenience store for a sandwhich to take to the library.

Me: And a spoon please, for the dessert.
Counter Guy: Just one spoon?
Me: Uh... yes, just one.
Counter Guy: You're eating all alone?
Me: Uh, yes.

Really? At Noon? On a Wednesday? Is the concept really that horrendous?

Oh, and the "creamy milk specialty" turned out to be essentially yogurt. Hmph.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Pretty in #FFC0CB

I'm not really sure how I feel about pink electronics.

Yes, I know pink is one of my favorite colors.

Yes, I know I should revel in the opportunity that so many things are now available in pink.

But to be honest, it kind of rubs me the wrong way. It's become almost expected in selection choice. What was once "black or white" is now "black, white, or pink." It's the all-too-predictable, looks-savvy, girly option. Where it once took a great feat of passionate and dedicated shopping to find that truly unique, special something in pink; it's now been reduced to the status quo. By purchasing an electronic device in pink, it's almost too clear how well I'm fitting into some (genius) marketing scheme for valley girls, sorrority sisters, and trophy wives. And whatever happenned to all the other dozens of colors in the world anyway? Now a purple computer, that would be something.

But I suppose I shouldn't spend too much time bitching about this. After all, that would render me a horrible hypocrite. Everyone, meet Pinky. She looks something like this:

Pinky is exactly half the size of Sabriel (my main laptop), roughly a third of the weight, and has about 16 times the battery life. (Sadly, I'm not exaggerating). Did I really need a netbook? Couldn't I have just quit my bitching and moaning about back pain, bought a new battery for my laptop, and made do? Maybe. But I'm convinced this thing will somehow exponentially increase my productivity. (Even if it just means I can log onto AE anywhere and get work done in 20-30 minute chunks between construction.) And besides, it's just so damn cute.