Obligatory Graduation Post

I wrote my last exam today. Not to be a bummer or anything, but I have zero job prospects, zero cash monies, and I'm basically in the red in terms of hope. However, while I was wandering around aimlessly and things started to get burly from my panic tears I ran into a security gaurd who asked me if I was done. I told him yes, I just wrote my last exam, I'm completely done forever. And he said to me, 'Wonderful! You're free! You can fly!' (He actually for cereal said that, I couldn't make up something so tv-movie). And I said, 'Actually free just means unemployed, which feels less like flying and more like sinking. But thank you.' And he laughed and I laughed and then he went back to his paid job and I went back to my unpaid internship with depression. Then I walked outside and found two beer, just sitting on the ground, unopened and all alone and I thought to myself, this isn't a bad way to start the rest of my life.

And for my next act I shall climb up the mountain, get drunk, and pee downhill so it runs onto campus. Tomorrow I steal a potted plant.

Who wouldn't hire this face? Come on.

For the second time in as many years spring has pulled a fast one on me. One morning each year my sleepy eyes are blinded by sunlight and in the afternoon my pasty skin absorbs as much uv as possible while the winter hair on my legs blows in the soft, welcome breeze. Life is good. Skirts are worn. But then the nighttime cometh; it encroaches almost unnoticed under the guise of hot summer nights buried in your brain as year-old nostalgia and anticipation for the coming season. When the cold air sets in my bare skin gets covered in geesebumps and I start to shiver like Michael J in a freezer. Too soon? Well I like to Rush jokes. Limbaugh style.

Luckily, each year when I'm caught off guard a charming, generous, slightly slender young man lends me a pair of pants so that I don't freeze off my bits. This is really in his best interest, but I am thankful nonetheless.

I am thankful even despite the fact that, gap ads and celebrity sightings to the contrary, this is not a great look for me.

I wear the pants, even when I should clearly stick to a-lines.

Do I or do I not look like a maternal drag king?

I could smuggle baby rhinos stuffed with cocaine in these pants. The crotch space alone could house most of the cast of Little People Big World.

I look like an old photo from Christmas 1994, that someone took of your mom when she wasn't ready, like in the middle of wrangling 17 kids into the minivan, and you can hear her screaming "We gotta get to Grandma's house before Santa takes away all the presents you little shits!" and you just know there wasn't coffee in that mug. And now whenever the photo album comes out she grabs at it like, 'Oh jeeze, would you look at that? Don't look at that! Oh gawd just look at that" but really everyone knows that was back before things started to go downhill at breakneck speed.

Did you fucking kids make this mess? One more time and I'm taking away your shoes. You think I can't take away your shoes?? I invented shoes. That's it. I've had it. Barefoot for a month. All of you. Now go eat your meatloaf.

Pennies for Thoughts

I'm done my arts degree in 48 hours, there are some things I need to say while it's still possible, nay, appropriate.

Do you remember the cents symbol? The little c with the vertical line through it? Do you think its removal from computer keyboards is a sign of the hegemonic capitalist bourgeoisie corporate structure and their intent to undermine the little guy? I'm pretty sure Marx said that. Isn't it just, like, so symbolic of the inability of the poor to transcend social class? I mean, my parents haven't put any money in my bank account this month so I get it, you know?

=

One time I misspelled bureaucracy and the microsoft word spellcheck suggestions put plutocracy at the top of the list and I just thought that was so, like, appropriate. It's how they keep us down, man.

Uncle Sam says, "Shut the fuck up!"

Do you ever look at the dividing wall between the "men's" and "women's" washrooms and think that line epitomizes the rigidity of gender in our society? How insensitive to GLBT issues can you be? Do you ever wish you could see a transgendered person pissing right there between the two? I'd be all like, 'Hey he/she, you stick it to the wo/man!' Also, I think Jesus was a tranny.

'sample' indeed.

And the "diva cup"? Excuse me, but isn't that a value judgment? Diva sounds pretty capitalist to me. I think we should call it the "conscious persons cup." Also, I'd like to remind everyone that the contents of the "conscious persons cup" are compostable. Mother/father/state appointed gaurdian earth thanks you.

NOT a female version of a hustler.
(Obscure Beyonce reference.)

FUCK THE WORLD BANK! FUCK THE WORLD BANK! FUCK THE WORLD BANK! What does the World Bank do again? Shit, I mean, FUCK THE WORLD TRADE ORGANIZATION!

WTO kills farmers via hope bombs.

And how about the liberal media? Sometimes it can be so...conservative. Hannity & Colmes?? More like Hitler & Kruschev. ....fascism and communism are the same, right?

Colmes is rocking a poop 'stache from the butt kissing required to keep his job.

Question authority kids. Unless I'm babysitting you.

And the Award for Cock Tease of the Year Goes to....

Pop culture update: Taylor Swift = awesome. Kelly Clarkson = not.

Despite being America's best example of democracy at work, Kelly Clarkson is simply not worth the toll free calls she rode in on. Actual conversation I had with my roommate this morning:

"Kelly Clarkson, is she still fat?"
"Actually she's looking a bit skinnier."
"........so, still fat?"

I'm a bad person.

Latest example of her craptastic career: I Do Not Hook Up. Really Kelly? Really? I bet there's a few fellas back in Texas who would appreciate the irony here if they only knew what it meant. Don't go getting all noble just because your homemade porn hasn't surfaced yet. When it does you will have to eat 3 minutes and 47 seconds worth of your poorly sung words.

She doesn't hook up, she grabs her own boob!

First up, opening scene: Kelly looking uncomfortable at brunch with the Rockefeller family. Why? No reason, other than she's a down to earth Texan gal who likes to remind everyone of it. Then she's rude to the waiter: Oh sweetheart put that bottle down/you've got too much talent. Fuck you darlin', not everyone gets a free ride to Hollywood. Someone's gotta pop the champagne in the most phallic way possible for you and what appears to be Donald Trump's grandpa. I see you through those bloodshot eyes/there's a cure and you've found it. If you mean cocaine and alcohol as a cure for the depression that accompainies working in the service industry, then yes, he's found it, along with minimum wage and no benefits.

Second, this reeks of prostitution and sexual assault. If you want me I don't come cheap: Kelly, I'll remind you again that we're in a recession. Just because you're opposed to the stimulus package doesn't mean you can't stimulate the package. Hey-o! The more that you try the harder I'll fight to say goodnight. The girl plays defence. Classy, but if blue balls are fatal (as I was once told) you know who to call.

I do get the whole 'don't give blow j's on the playground' message she's going for, but does anyone else see the glaring contradiction as she dry humps buddy up the buffet table? You want to go slow? Dry hump on the second date kids. Plus she also says This might not last but this is now so love the one you're with. So don't hook up, but do settle for mediocrity? Sure thing Kelly. Plus, how else will kids know who the popular girls are?? Her next song will have to be "I do not do anal."

I have half a mind to photoshop a dick where that sucker is.

Her one redeeming quality? She's friends with Reba, and a friend of Reba's is a friend of mine, but only as a favour to Ms. McIntyre, the queen of country and a damn fine actress.

Get your hands off my Reba!

And now I have to go change my facebook status because an older family member posted that she 'liked' that 'B-tang does not hook up.' She does not get irony.

Funny Things My Boyfriend Does When He Sleeps

Sometimes he moves his mouth like he's chewing, and he also makes a noise like 'num, num, num.' He says he dreams about eating food sometimes, but I think it's possible he's going down on someone. Num, num, num. (Do dudes dream about foreplay? I imagine they might skip straight to p in the v-g).

Last night I came to bed and asked him to move over so I could sleep the proper way (on my right side, facing away from the wall on the edge of the bed) and he mumbled, "I can't, there's a pillow in the way." Yeah, so fucking move it you sleeptard.

One morning I asked him what time it was and he reached his hand out and mimed shaking someone's hand. Oh, it's handshake o'clock? Great, time to get up!

Once we were both sleeping on a couch and given the space restrictions I was kind of curled up so that his head was above mine vertically. When I woke up I felt something wet on my face only to realize that the douche-chill was drooling on me.

In the middle of the night once he woke me up when he started making fighting motions in the air. It turns out that he was dreaming that we were sitting on a couch and someone was coming at me with a pair of pliers, so I suppose that was nice of him.

This he does when he's awake, which makes it even worse. He calls the sheet a 'thin blanket' even though it's clearly a sheet for reasons I've gone over many times. I've suggested that he go back to school Billy Madison style to relearn his household objects, only no hot teacher flashing boobies trick.

But he doesn't snore, he doesn't hog the blankets, and he would never, ever wake me up on purpose. He will live another day.

When I woke up this morning I thought I should blog about the dream I had: there was this baby, but he had a face like an adult, and he could talk and walk and he was as tall as maybe a five year old. Then I stopped for a second, realized that my dream was actually a fucking Wayans Brothers movie, and punched myself straight in the nose.


Thanks for the quality movies fellas. I really appreciate the way you just run with the worst possible ideas, and then try to fool stupid people into thinking it's good with cra-azy costumes or really intense greenscreen crap. Keenan, Damon, Shawn, Marlon, you remember In Living Colour, right? THAT is how long black men dressed as white women is funny for. I'll watch that in a sketch. I might even laugh. I will not waste my precious few dollars and two hours of my life on your mid-life crisis.
Anyway, someone famous whose name I can't remember once said, "Other people's dreams are only funny if you're in them or someone's having sex." I guess this post is only interesting if your last name is Wayans or you're a pedophile.

However, considering that at the moment my real life consists of eating a box of cookies while watching Say Yes to the Dress in my pajamas, I thought maybe you'd appreciate the dream instead. But I gotta go, Nicole, who wants to look like a princess on her wedding day, just said that her fiancee, Marcus, makes her a better person and then started crying. I'm going to be here all day.

Crest Dorkstrips

I drink coffee and red wine pretty much daily. On days when I'm not drinking wine, I drink extra coffee. If I'm not drinking coffee, you can bet it's only because I'm drinking too much red wine to make more. I'm not what you might call a 'people person', I actually have a list of things that I enjoy more than most people; coffee and red wine top the list, followed by exposed brick walls. It's like, 'Hey Brittney, do you want to go hang out with a random sample of the population or would you rather stay home with your beverages and stare at a pretty wall?" This is not a difficult choice.

Consequently the colour of my teeth has suffered. This is unfortunate because I often get compliments my on my teeth. People ask if I've ever had braces and I blush, smile, and say no, no I haven't. I've had no major dental work and only one cavity in my entire life. Cue larger smile to flash pearly whites. Except now they're more like pearly yellows.

Check it, before shot:
So I went to get some whitening product, contrary to everything my mother's ever told me about toxic chemicals and carcinogens (just because you've had cancer doesn't make you a fucking expert on it, ai'ight mom???).

Now from my consumer knowledge I was under the impression that all whitestrips looked something like this:
However, I opted for the generic brand, "Life Whitening Wraps." And while the box assured me that they were as effective as the leading brand (and half the price) they failed to mention that they make you look like a fucking idiot.
Oh hai! Check out my big blue mouthgaurd! Shexy shexy!
Why in good hell would you make your Whitening Wraps blue?? Is this some sort of play on bluetooth, the ear-phone thing? They're also pretty big and I can't speak properly with them it. And my mouth starts watering but I'm too nervous to swallow my own saliva when it's clearly been mixing around with peroxide so I have to keep spitting it out. My teeth haven't gotten sensitive though, which I've heard is a common thing, but the other day I did feel a sharp pain in one of my teeth and I panicked and ripped off the mouthgaurd before I realized it wasn't even a tooth that was touching the whitening sludge goo.

I would post an 'after' photo, but frankly they're just not working. I'm going to go make some more coffee now.

Oh Craig.

This is kind of along the lines of Joey Comeau's Overqualified, only less funny and, unfortunately, will never be turned into a book and end up making me money. But kudos to you Mr. Comeau, kudos.

Things I Won't/Can't Do, Craigslist Styles

- I can't do a job that requires Gujurati. I've never even heard of Gujurati; turns out it's the state language of Gujarat. Awesome. Ixnay on that telemarketing position.

- I won't take a job if the email attached is party007hard@hotmail.com. Ixnay on dishwashing.

- I won't take a job if the ad is WRITTEN ALL IN CAPS. THIS SCREAMS ILLEGITIMATE IN WAYS EXCLAMATION MARKS NEVER COULD.

- I will not take a job if the title of the ad is "Rock $ Roll attitude!" What the fuck does that mean?? Do I have a Rock $ Roll attitude?? Do they just not know the difference between a dollar sign and an amersand?? Likely.

- I will not take a job if the ad says that the candidate will be replacing "El Tigre." I'm going out on a limb and saying that I probably can't wash dishes as well as El Tigre.

- I cannot do a job that requires "an understanding of the Urban Outfitters culture." I know what irony is, does that count??

- I will not do the following job: "looking for a person who can wax my back, must have a place, must have supplies." How fucking hairy are you that you can't go to a salon like a regular hairy person? The funny thing about your back is that it's located on your dick, isn't it?

- I will not be a masseuse....yet.

DIY = Crafturbation.

Crotch Shot!!!

I believe its Newton's 3rd law that states when one big ol' thigh rubs up against the other big ol' thigh over an extended period of time your $40 jeans will disintegrate in the upper thigh/crotchular region. When we learned about friction for the first time in grade four the whole class started yelling, "That's humping!! FRICTION IS HUMPING!!" And I was all, "Yeah, friction!...humping! (What's humping?) Yeah, friction is humping!!"

This is the before picture. Except where there's chewed fingernails painted sassy red, picture a little pooch of upper thigh skin.

Killer swatch, compliments of roommate extraordinaire Tay-tay, who has things like floral fabric on hand at all times.

A little nip, a little tuck and stitch and, wait, screw up, cut thread, re-do, and viola!

Double crotch shot, in case you had erased that image from your mind.
Actually, in the end it didn't look very good at all. You can just kind of see flowers poking up around my bum when I walk and it looks kind of like my extremely long floral underpants are trying to escape somehow. I don't blame them. I'm going to try this on a beat up old jean jacket next. How exciting! How craftastic! You can go ahead and crafturbate to that one.

Giant, Friendly.

I recently got a new computer, It's name is Puter and it is one of those ittsy bittsy, teeny weeny, yellow polka dot numbers. Minus the yellow and the polka dots. It's the kind of computer that all the Asian kids in my classes had several years ago while the rest of the world was still struggling with wireless (Internet through the air???? Not where I'm from mister).

The thing I've come to realize about tiny computers is that the smaller the computer, the larger the owner feels. It's kind of like pubes: if you trim back the hedges the tree looks bigger. If by bushes you mean several inches of screen and by tree you mean the rest of my body, then yes, I am a giant. Thanks Acer.

eg #1:
Does this computer make my feet look big?
I could crush the whole damn thing with my meat hooks.

And, of course....
Hey Jenny Craig, my ass is bigger than a computer, what kind of meal plan do you have for that? $12.99 a day for a big bag of fucking nothing? Grrreaat! I'll be as small as Kirstie Alley in no time!

Oh but wait...
Holy shit that computer is huge! It's practically a desktop next to my little knockers!

If I had a penis that would be the next photo....sadly you'll have to use your imaginations.

Right Now, Three Years Ago

Since I've been a little blue on account of exams lately (read: manic depressive and stressed to the point where it feels like my throat is closing off. Shout out to the folks at WebMD for the speedy diagnosis of sleep apnea and, of course, cancer. Actually, for shizzle I read this one sight that recommended doing calming activities, such as drinking. Thanks Dr. Nick!) Also it doesn't help that my uterus is currently scratching its way out of my body, I swear my uterine lining is attached via piercing scalpels. And then Afra's athlete's feet made me think about traveling so I decided to play a little game called "Where Was I Three Years Ago?" to cheer myself up. Thanks to my lack of technological prowess I couldn't turn off the date thinger on my camera so I now know exactly where I was this week, three years ago.

Tuscan countryside?? YEUUUUUUUCCCHH! Oh man, I am so glad I'm not there right now, because you know what I hate? Italian villas in the distance. Know what else I hate? Pasta, pizza, gelato, leather and impressive art. D-scusting. (This was the view walking down the country road from my hostel in an old villa outside of Florence. How cliche.)

Ugh. Too sunny. Too lovely. Too picturesque.

The pope is a d-bag anyway.

Actually, true story I got to Rome on Easter Sunday and was trying to make it down to the Vatican to see the Pope's Easter Hooplah because I obviously love Catholicism and crowds. So i get off the subway and I see this group of nuns (flock of nuns?) and I'm all like, oh, I'll just follow them, they're obviously going to church. They are NUNS after all. So I trail after these old biddies for freaking ever until I realize that they're not going to church, they've already been to church, and now I'm just following them on an afternoon stroll in their Sunday best. Excellent.

But at least I got to share these memories with my little brother...

Oh hey brother! Awkward much? I really enjoy that hair colour you're rocking. You died it yourself? You don't say.
And so god damn pleasant to be around. What a great travel companion. And such excellent fashion sense.
Speaking of, check out this little number: white polyester track suit much? So that morning we were going to St. Pete's and I says to him, I says, 'Reilly, there's a dress code. The pope doesn't like to see your knobby kneecaps so even though it's hot out, MAKE SURE YOU PACK A PAIR OF PANTS.' So we rock up to the gates and I says to him, I says, 'Reilly, where are your pants? Why don't you have PANTS?' And he says, 'PANTS? It's too damn HOT for PANTS!' So I was all, 'Go find some fucking PANTS because I'm not waiting in line just to get kicked out because you're too dumb to dress yourself.' So he comes back 15 minutes later wearing this getup and I'm like, 'Did you rob a seniors tour? Why would you get the jacket too?" "Uhh, so I MATCH, duh."
God, I'm so young. So aloof. So 'standing in front of the Trevi fountain and not writing exams' right now. So 'wearing black and orange like I'm a fucking pumpkin.' I must get my fashion sense from my brother.

But I shouldn't complain, after Italy was Greece and that place just. fucking. sucks.

Yeah, that definitely made me feel better. And now back to your regularly scheduled studying...