May 31st, 2007 Riley
When I am wealthy, I am going to be a total slut, and it’s going to be awesome. What an apt word the latin is in this case, because I do indeed agree that rolling around with greased-up hotties is the absolute definition of luxury. Who needs cars or accessories when you can have as many breasts around as you desire?
Lust, of course, that is the sin we are diving into today, and what a fabulous sin it is. If not for lust, there wouldn’t be babies, and if not for babies, there wouldn’t be that fabulous new baby smell.
Speaking of lust -
You know what really irks me about pageants like Miss Universe? It’s not the degradation or sexism. Who cares about that? It’s the fact that they parade seventy-seven, about half of them fairly hot, chics before me, and then immediately cut down to fifteen and drop most of the really hot ones before the competition even begins. That’s just freaking cruel. How am I supposed to pay attention during the bikini show… Oh, I’m sorry, the “Swimsuit Competition”… when all I can think about is the fact that there are sixty-two confident, uninhibited girls that I don’t get to see half-naked?
I watched the Miss Universe Pageant on Monday. I’m only slightly ashamed of it. Mostly I’m just aggravated. I hate that I am furthering Donald Trump’s career, but until I have the money to buy my own girls, I have no choice but to use his. They were wrong, wrong, wrong the vast majority of the time. The fact that Miss Georgia didn’t make the top fifteen, and that Misses Mexico and India were both cut before the top five were tragedies of cosmic-pageant proportions. There were other slighted babes as well, but don’t worry, you can find them all here: http://www.jijasali.com/gallery.php?contest=miss+universe+2007.
Praise the unlimited power of the internet to bring freshly-squeezed girls into my home on a regular basis, and don’t forget… The Internet is For Porn!
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May 30th, 2007 Riley
It’s finally happened. When we moved into this apartment, I knew that the peep hole was going to be an issue. It is very tall and I am very not, and I can’t see out the damn thing at all. When I look at it, I feel like Gulliver in Brobdingnag. I mean, if I put my cheek flush against the door and squinted just right, I might be able to get a glimpse of sky. Other than that, it’s pretty freaking useless for me.
As a vertically-challenged person, I have come to expect inconveniences in this world. I expect to have my view of the stage obstructed when people stand at concerts. I expect to be ignored and trampled on when walking through Rockefeller Plaza at Christmas time. Until some time in the middle of last year, I expected to be carded when I went to an R-rated movie. I’d gotten used to these things and had taken measures to overcome them, like avoiding floor seats and buying movie tickets at the automated machines. But never did I think that being short could lead to being Mormoned.
But that’s what happened today.
I was minding my own business, fantasizing about future lust, when the knock came. Thinking that it could only be maintenance or a delivery of some sort, I opened the door right up. I do that, even though I probably shouldn’t, because if it’s some idiot trying to hurt me I have two things working in my favor. One, I am stronger than they will assume that I am, and I know in a situation where I feel threatened I will also be considerably more crazy than they will be anticipating. Two, if I fail physically to keep said idiots at bay, I know my scream will not fail me. It is the kind of ear-splitting, brain-warping screech that sets dogs to howling and makes would-be attackers’ faces melt off. When I opened the door, there they were, some freaking Mormi on my doorstep.
As a person who tries to be more polite to others than people usually are to me, I let the two men, sharply dressed in their sexy short sleeve white button-ups, go through their little spiel. It was actually kind of entertaining. Then, they asked to come in and I had to politely decline. As already established, I had lust on my mind, and I really didn’t want to explain later how I ended up in a bisexual threesome with two chess-club looking Mormi.
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May 29th, 2007 Riley
So, here goes the job searching, but this time, along with the usual skepticism of “I don’t know. You move around an awful lot,” I am now also experiencing the “What are these gaps in employment?” question. And I am yet again reminded of how you are made to suffer if you don’t memorize society’s rule book at an early age and regurgitate it on cue. For those of you who don’t have your rules memorized, I will reprint them below.
Ten Easy Steps to an Acceptable Life
Rule #1 – Finish high school and go to college.
Rule #2 – Graduate from college. (Send out invitations and walk the line, or you won’t get any acknowledgment of your achievement.) *
Rule #3 – Get married. (preferably to someone you met, and got engaged to, during college) *
Rule #4 – Find a job that you plan to be content with for at least forty years. Make sure it is near the place where you grew up, or at least relatives. Never, ever plan to move out of town.
Rule #5 – Buy a “starter house,” the house you can afford until you “move up” to a larger house with more rooms in a better subdivision. Prepare to move your belongings up in the world every ten years or so.
Rule #6 – Have children. Try to keep them close in age. Train them to be every bit as obedient as you were trained to be. *
Rule #7 – Add on (rooms, decks, balconies) anything that makes your house increase in value and makes your neighbors jealous.
Rule #8 – What you don’t put into house add-ons, new cars, or vacations, put into savings for retirement.
Rule #9 – Send your children off into the world (not too far, of course), marry them off, play with your grandchildren, retire.
Rule #10 – Plan your own funeral and die. You weren’t really living anyway.
* Depending on where you are in the world, rules 2, 3, and 6 can be interchangeable. All other rules must be followed explicitly and in order.
Posted in Life Lessons | 3 Comments »
May 21st, 2007 Riley
Damn, if I don’t have to go back to doing it again. Tomorrow I have a job interview. I hate job interviews. They are like the adult version of having to get your vaccinations. As if that event isn’t traumatic enough in itself, the reason you are doing it is so you can subject yourself to anywhere from days to years of attendance in classes or at work, which is the total opposite of what life is all about. But, alas, we have debt to pay off and I want to get it paid off. One, so we can stop worrying about it. Two, because I kind of have no choice in getting the hospital bills paid off or else they won’t let me get my next round of testing done come July. Three, the most important reason, because we have to get our asses to New York so that when Hillary gets the nod, we can be there for the exquisitely exciting campaign. Girl Power! Rock! So, away with this nasty debt and the nasty stress that comes along with it, and hola to all things bright and beautiful. For today at least.
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May 17th, 2007 Riley
Every time I see Shawna sit down to do an index card for her thirty days to greatness plan, or looking up scripts online to get ideas, I think to myself “I am so fucking screwed.” She is going to write her first screenplay, and she is going to sell it before me. She is, because, while I am writing what bubbles up from my incredibly overactive soul, she is finding all of her inspiration in the Hollywood shit-pile of ideas. And she is going to kick my ass because of it. Damn her for being such a Tripe Ninja.
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May 16th, 2007 Riley
I’ve grown used to the idea that sex sells, and that people are going to use it to sell whatever they can, from Mexican fastfood (I’m talking to you “Pink Taco”) to motorcycles (the Crotch Rocket comes to mind), but apparently I can still be shocked when I am least expecting it. About this particular item, a guitar accessory used for distortion, I can only say Why?
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May 16th, 2007 Riley
One of my new favorite pastimes is getting on my comment moderation and deleting the Viagara posts. I find it a glowing testament to humanity that someone sees a post entitled “All We Need Is More and Better Love” and finds it the perfect place to hawk penis-uppers, because when I say love, I can only possibly be referring to copulation. Mother Theresa said something like ”Let us love one another as God loves us.” No word yet on whether He kept a stash of Viagara on hand for those special occasions.
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May 14th, 2007 Riley
In honor of yet another day of feeling that time is ticking by faster than I can utilize it and get those things that I want to accomplish accomplished, let us dream of impending days of inactivity.
Once I find success, there will be days when I will be completely lazy. I will wear a flowy white skirt and walk the beaches of the Mediterranean. I will sit on my balcony overlooking the Côte d’Azur with a steaming Café au lait. I will hang out all evening along the Costa del Sol, munching tapas and drinking Sangria. It is my definite intention to become an alcoholic and a caffeine-addict during my long periods of idleness.
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May 10th, 2007 Riley
I have crafted a book that is worthy of purchase, honestly, and yet here I sit with two thousand of them playing bed frame to a mattress in my apartment. In an effort to try to force the books from their, obviously too comfy, home, I’ve made a game of it, because, while no one actually seems to read anymore, everyone loves a good lottery. I didn’t even make this up. If you don’t believe me, check it out here.
And now, the top five reasons that you should play the game and help me dismantle my bed.
1. Other means I have come up with to rid myself of the books are considerably more dangerous. I’ve contemplated an axe, to hack them into tiny little bits, with which I can then pack boxes or dip them into food coloring to make Easter grass, but I’m afraid that once I get the axe in my hands, I’ll start thinking too much. Like I’ll think about how much the postal service irks me, or how many times PayPal has done a charge back without investigation, or about the ex-friend whose face I pushed into the snow back in college. Then, what if I get giddy and leave the house? It could all go by way of Lizzie Borden much too quickly. I also thought about fire, collecting a check, and thanking the insurance company, but it’s always made me fearful. I can’t even light a match, and using one of those long-stemmed lighter things seems kind of flaky. If I’m going to get into arson, I’m going to have to get my fingers burned. But I’m not quite ready for that yet.
2. You get something in return. No, not literary excellence. Girl-girl action. Okay, I’m just going to write it here, right out in the open. Cinderella and Rapunzel are, in fact, a couple. I was trying to keep it on the down low to trick Bible-thumpers into buying it for their impressionable young daughters, but that hasn’t happened, so I may as well drop the charade. Cinderella and Rapunzel, they really like each other. Sometimes they even like each other with tongues. Haven’t you always fantasized about two fairy tale chics getting it on? Well I have. Often. And with frantic hand movements.
3. Profit-sharing. Not for everyone. Only for the winners. Just like in life, losers get nothing but the crappiest job and the smallest piece of steak. However, unlike in life, I won’t determine your loser status based upon your height, weight, sex, race, or your balding head. Everyone has an equal opportunity to be a winner ‘round these parts. All you have to have is better timing than approximately 1920 other people. See how you can become a winner here.
4. Two words. Norco. Togo. This makes zero sense to many of you now, but if you read the book, it will. And then you will rejoice and be glad.
5. If you do nothing, the world will end. I’ve been in deep deliberations with Jerry Falwell, Al Gore, M. Night Shyamalan, and Captain Kirk. Apparently, my recent string of failures has started an apocalyptic chain of events that culminates in Jesus Christ himself riding back to Earth in a spaceship, beaming up all the Scotties, and then waylaying the planet with one hell of an ice age. And just when you think it’s all over, there will be a twist ending you won’t believe.
This post is earmarked for the ProBlogger Group Writing Project, so don’t anyone else be trying to steal it for their own writing projects, or for an overdue English essay. It probably won’t get you a passing grade anyway, and a finicky, religious teacher might object to including a shout-out to Jesus and a vague reference to masturbation in the same paper.
Posted in Dismantle My Bed | 9 Comments »
May 8th, 2007 Riley
Otherwise known as GREED for we laypeople.
I must sell a screenplay. I must do it before Shawna. So, in an effort to inspire myself to greatness, here is a list of completely unnecessary material possessions that I would acquire should I ever have any money.
Degrassi: The Next Generation (Seasons 4 & 5… and Season 6, as soon as it becomes available) – I admit it. I have fallen hard for Palex. And I have stopped trying to resist the charm of Deanna Casaluce. Honestly, why would one try? àhttp://www.deannacasaluce.ca/
Car: the Chevy Equinox. Yes, I will take one, thank you. We got a free upgrade to one of these on a trip to LA last year, and it was a surprisingly smooth ride. More importantly, it had a little built-in net that was intended for an atlas or something, but that fit my writing tablet as if it were made for it. That tiny piece of netting totally took it from a car to a freaking piece of heaven on four wheels.
Car: the 240sx sitting in Shawna’s ‘rents driveway. We borrowed the money from her dad to buy the car. Then we sold it back to him. If I had the money to, I would be willing to buy it back for more than he paid for it. I hate to say this about something as trivial as a vehicle, but damn that green is pretty. The real reason I would drop a dime on it though is that it corners like a race car. Save for those sneaky cops and Sunday drivers, I’m convinced this car could drive the length of the Pennsylvania Turnpike in roughly forty minutes.
Guitars. I like them. I am amazed by how the same instruments can sound so very different from each other. I would like to have more than I have, and would buy more if I could afford it. I’d like a bass and a violin too. And I wanna learn to play a bodhran like the guy who is playing with Kathy Mattea on her tour. Guess that means I need one of those too. Oh, and I would kill for a box drum. Only not really. That’s why I need the money.
Of course, I would make all of these purchases after doing some tithing. You give to church, you say. Of course not, I say in return. I am talking about the only good kind of tithing there is, giving to charity. And I am not just saying that to make myself seem like a better person than I am. I know I suck. But I also know that there is no way in hell I could enjoy my Degrassi when I know about all of the horrors that are taking place all over the world. What’s up with Africa? Seriously, genocide and drought at the same time? Could we get them a little help here? I read the other day that they (meaning experts of course) blame the dearth of food and water in Africa not only on the higher temperatures, but also improper irrigation techniques. So why exactly are so many countries wasting so much of their money on war instead of sending some scientists in to help Africa irrigate? I’m just saying.
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