I have decided that because it's Christmas and all that, I probably won't be doing anything calculatedly hilarious and mean to annoying-girl's MySpace site. I think she may have lied about her age anyway--she looks way too young to be 20, and I don't want to break the hearts of mere children.
(The young call her the Soul Crusher, for she ruthlessly mocks their choice of music, awful grammar, and puctuation. )
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Such a Pretty Dummy
Many people in Chihuahua, Mexico believe that the mannequin in a bridal shop window is actually the embalmed daughter of the former owner. The hubub started when the realistic dummy was first put into the window in 1930. I suppose people were used to seeing simple headless shop window dummies, perhaps? In any case, the owner finally had to make a statement through the local law that the dummy was just a dummy, and please stop these harassing calls accusing her of embalming her daughter. Curious, I looked up more pictures on "La Pascualita," and was vaguely disappointed. Then I saw this picture of her hand, and was a little weirded out.
I'm glad they don't make mannequins that realistic anymore.
I'm glad they don't make mannequins that realistic anymore.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Fine
Here it is, in all its glory. I'm still having a bit of a hard time not believing this is one of my clever friends playing a pretty hilarious joke on me. No? Feh, it's still hilarious.
I notice there have been some updates to her profile. How do you manage to go to middle school if you're allegedly born in 1985? Ohhhh... By having a fantastically delicate and miniscule brain?
I notice there have been some updates to her profile. How do you manage to go to middle school if you're allegedly born in 1985? Ohhhh... By having a fantastically delicate and miniscule brain?
Must...Be...Nice... Remember Christmas-time.
The misanthrope in me is being tempted to do something pretty funny, but kind of mean. But…more funny than mean. I swear. Well, okay…it would really only be funny to me and give me some satisfaction, which means I have no excuse for doing it.
Back story: Soon after I got my Comcast email address 3 years ago, I began getting the occasional email from vapid, semi-illiterate teens in Pennsylvania somewhere. I quickly figured out that some girl had been inadvertently giving out my email address, rather than her own. Oops. Not a mistake I’d probably make, but these things happen. I began replying to the emails, (gently) letting them know they have the wrong address, and they need to let “their Steph” know she has to figure out what her actual address is and stop giving out mine. Now, you’d think that if a friend told you she sent an email about her secret crush to a complete stranger because you provided her with the wrong address… that, mortified, you’d make sure your return address was set correctly, and that it didn’t happen again.
But noooo. Not only did various emails from friends, parents, and school groups increase, but she began signing up for retarded mailing lists about tanning, etc. (like, oh my gawd!)
I began to get frustrated, and reply a little more sharply to people, in hopes that they’d get the message across to this idiot. Some boy wrote multiple times about “how good last nite was,” “and how he couldn’t wait 2 look into ur eyyes again,” and when I was done laughing, I was ticked off. Why couldn’t an intelligent person with interesting friends make this mistake? (rhetorical question)
This time I poked through the headers of her attached previous email and found her actual email address. I wrote her a letter that was gentler, in retrospect, than I should have been. She responded, not with an apology, but with an “OMG! I need emails from paul can u send them to me or tell me what he said. Make me a list of emails I missd.”
Right. Now I’m your message service? I responded that I wasn’t going to be forwarding emails, and if she was interested in what people had to say, she would correct her address with them so SHE would get them, not me. Gradually, the influx of lost emails began to subside, and I trained my email to junk the mailing list messages so I don’t have to deal with them.
And then… the other day, I received an email from MySpace, letting me know that some schumck wanted to added as “one of my friends.” I was mildly confused, since, as far as I could remember, I has not signed up for anything with MySpace, which appears to be *the* place for weirdoes and teens to flirt with each other. No offense to anyone literate who has a MySpace site.
In any case, I went over to the main site and poked at the login just in case I has signed up way back when and forgotten. Nope. None of my standard passwords worked, so I clicked “I forgot my password” and they sent it, no questions asked, to…my Comcast email. More confusion for a moment as my brain slowly clicked into gear. I know I probably never signed up at MySpace, but I know for SURE that I never had “areyougay1” as my password for anything. (a light goes on in my head) oh, I see.
And this is where my temptation to do evil came in: I went to the “other” Steph’s ridiculous MySpace site, and of course, with her login and password, I can alter her site and profile. Ooo, the temptation! Here is a quote from her veritable literary work of a profile:
Okayy..well um I have a boyfriend named Dominic.We have been together for 1 month.I love him soooooo much!:)I am on a cheerleading team called the American Flyerz.Yeahh we are thee bestt teamm.We mostly get FIRST PLACE!..I have AIM and a Livejournal and obvisily a myspace.Um Yeah I love to tan.Im really dark.I love to jump on the trampoline.I can do like front flips and backflips.Well I love to listen to music and to watch T.V....Well i love my friends.There swweeeeet.Well i can be really stupid and a blonde at times.Im really outgoing and I love to have fun and just be with my friends..I really hate school.But yeah...I love to do my makeup and use lipgloss.Yeah well i love the Andy Milliknockis Show..Hahah its soooooo funny!!!!!!..Yeah well I have dark brown hair with red highlights and I have brown eyes.Yeah well um I love my hair.I jsut got it permentaly straighted and I have side bangs.Yeahhh welll...i wear Abercrombie and alll them kind of clothes.So yeahh.
I kid you not. I have not changed a letter. There is also a priceless photo of her and some friend pouting for the camera. She’s freaking 20 years old. Am I wrong to think one should be just slightly beyond this at 20?
Anyway, I am sitting on my hands like a good person, and not logging on and adding a bit about her being a bimbo or making fun of her grammatical inadequacies.
I am a good person. I am a good person. (Repeat until the urge to be mean goes away.)
Back story: Soon after I got my Comcast email address 3 years ago, I began getting the occasional email from vapid, semi-illiterate teens in Pennsylvania somewhere. I quickly figured out that some girl had been inadvertently giving out my email address, rather than her own. Oops. Not a mistake I’d probably make, but these things happen. I began replying to the emails, (gently) letting them know they have the wrong address, and they need to let “their Steph” know she has to figure out what her actual address is and stop giving out mine. Now, you’d think that if a friend told you she sent an email about her secret crush to a complete stranger because you provided her with the wrong address… that, mortified, you’d make sure your return address was set correctly, and that it didn’t happen again.
But noooo. Not only did various emails from friends, parents, and school groups increase, but she began signing up for retarded mailing lists about tanning, etc. (like, oh my gawd!)
I began to get frustrated, and reply a little more sharply to people, in hopes that they’d get the message across to this idiot. Some boy wrote multiple times about “how good last nite was,” “and how he couldn’t wait 2 look into ur eyyes again,” and when I was done laughing, I was ticked off. Why couldn’t an intelligent person with interesting friends make this mistake? (rhetorical question)
This time I poked through the headers of her attached previous email and found her actual email address. I wrote her a letter that was gentler, in retrospect, than I should have been. She responded, not with an apology, but with an “OMG! I need emails from paul can u send them to me or tell me what he said. Make me a list of emails I missd.”
Right. Now I’m your message service? I responded that I wasn’t going to be forwarding emails, and if she was interested in what people had to say, she would correct her address with them so SHE would get them, not me. Gradually, the influx of lost emails began to subside, and I trained my email to junk the mailing list messages so I don’t have to deal with them.
And then… the other day, I received an email from MySpace, letting me know that some schumck wanted to added as “one of my friends.” I was mildly confused, since, as far as I could remember, I has not signed up for anything with MySpace, which appears to be *the* place for weirdoes and teens to flirt with each other. No offense to anyone literate who has a MySpace site.
In any case, I went over to the main site and poked at the login just in case I has signed up way back when and forgotten. Nope. None of my standard passwords worked, so I clicked “I forgot my password” and they sent it, no questions asked, to…my Comcast email. More confusion for a moment as my brain slowly clicked into gear. I know I probably never signed up at MySpace, but I know for SURE that I never had “areyougay1” as my password for anything. (a light goes on in my head) oh, I see.
And this is where my temptation to do evil came in: I went to the “other” Steph’s ridiculous MySpace site, and of course, with her login and password, I can alter her site and profile. Ooo, the temptation! Here is a quote from her veritable literary work of a profile:
Okayy..well um I have a boyfriend named Dominic.We have been together for 1 month.I love him soooooo much!:)I am on a cheerleading team called the American Flyerz.Yeahh we are thee bestt teamm.We mostly get FIRST PLACE!..I have AIM and a Livejournal and obvisily a myspace.Um Yeah I love to tan.Im really dark.I love to jump on the trampoline.I can do like front flips and backflips.Well I love to listen to music and to watch T.V....Well i love my friends.There swweeeeet.Well i can be really stupid and a blonde at times.Im really outgoing and I love to have fun and just be with my friends..I really hate school.But yeah...I love to do my makeup and use lipgloss.Yeah well i love the Andy Milliknockis Show..Hahah its soooooo funny!!!!!!..Yeah well I have dark brown hair with red highlights and I have brown eyes.Yeah well um I love my hair.I jsut got it permentaly straighted and I have side bangs.Yeahhh welll...i wear Abercrombie and alll them kind of clothes.So yeahh.
I kid you not. I have not changed a letter. There is also a priceless photo of her and some friend pouting for the camera. She’s freaking 20 years old. Am I wrong to think one should be just slightly beyond this at 20?
Anyway, I am sitting on my hands like a good person, and not logging on and adding a bit about her being a bimbo or making fun of her grammatical inadequacies.
I am a good person. I am a good person. (Repeat until the urge to be mean goes away.)
Sunday, December 11, 2005
My Special Best Friend
The other day I pulled up to a light and noticed a scruffy looking guy at the far corner of a building on the opposite side of the intersection. He was clearly in a heated discussion with whoever was around the corner, because he was gesticulating angrily and waving his finger. A couple times he whirled to go, and almost left the conversation entirely, but he turned back with a final word or two as the light changed.
As my car rolled by, I was curious as to what type of person he was debating, but when the corner came into view, all I saw was a large window he was stading in front of. "Is he arguing with someone inside?" I wondered stupidly.
...Until I pulled level and realized that in the plate glass was a full length reflection of the guy, as he picked the argument with himself back up where it had left off.
I hope he and his friend have someplace warm to sleep, and something to eat.
As my car rolled by, I was curious as to what type of person he was debating, but when the corner came into view, all I saw was a large window he was stading in front of. "Is he arguing with someone inside?" I wondered stupidly.
...Until I pulled level and realized that in the plate glass was a full length reflection of the guy, as he picked the argument with himself back up where it had left off.
I hope he and his friend have someplace warm to sleep, and something to eat.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Jolly Old St. Nick
This gallery of children hating their visits with Father Christmas himself made me say things like, "Oh, poor baby! (tee heeehee.)" Am I awful that pictures of crying children make me giggle? Actually, I don't think I can be that bad. I got really mad and threw a remote once when a "funniest video" program showed a genuinely terrified 4 year old being chased around and around the car by a huge angry turkey. The parents thought it was so hilarious that they didn't bother opening the car door until the poor kid had almost shrieked himself hoarse. Stupid freaking "parents." It still makes me angry to think about it. That kid will need years of therapy.
In any case... these kids generally seem more pissed off than terrified, which makes it...uh, okay to laugh? Mall Santas must have to deal with so many uncooperative tots.
I'm not exactly Santa-crazy, but I think that J.R.R. Tolkien's book of Letters from Father Christmas that he wrote each year to his children is really sweet and magical.
In any case... these kids generally seem more pissed off than terrified, which makes it...uh, okay to laugh? Mall Santas must have to deal with so many uncooperative tots.
I'm not exactly Santa-crazy, but I think that J.R.R. Tolkien's book of Letters from Father Christmas that he wrote each year to his children is really sweet and magical.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Getting all Christmassy and Stuff
It is a rare thing indeed that I get this close to Christmas without the house being suffused in lights and wintery goodness and a carol playing in my heart.
Uh, but somehow I managed it this year. And I'm not even working retail.
It's not that I don't want the Christmas spirit--Lord knows it's my very favorite time of year. It's just been so busy and yahddah yaddah excuses...
I was expecting to see most of my family, and it turns out they won't be here after all, so I'm having to reset my "stuff I'm looking forward to" meter. However...last Christmas was really wonderful--family wasn't in town, so it was quiet and low-key, and we hung out with some friends that we love. I can look forward to that. For sure.
Uh, but somehow I managed it this year. And I'm not even working retail.
It's not that I don't want the Christmas spirit--Lord knows it's my very favorite time of year. It's just been so busy and yahddah yaddah excuses...
I was expecting to see most of my family, and it turns out they won't be here after all, so I'm having to reset my "stuff I'm looking forward to" meter. However...last Christmas was really wonderful--family wasn't in town, so it was quiet and low-key, and we hung out with some friends that we love. I can look forward to that. For sure.
Incidentally,
it was surgery on the spot for my dad, who apparently was having multiple little heart attacks to demonstrate to the doctors that he needed an angioplasty NOW. He's doing well--came home a day after surgery, which is a bit spooky, but the doctors said he'll be just fine. He sounds as though he's in much better spirits. Wa-phew...
Friday, December 02, 2005
Role Reversal
It's funny just how much I worry about my parents now. When you're little they can do anything and know everything, and now that I'm an adult, I'm sometimes horrified at how helpless and uninformed they can be. I find myself being protective and anxious about them, the same way they probably were of me.
When I found out my dad's heart condition had worsened suddenlywhile on a business trip, I found myself worrying that Mom would meet him at the airport to drag him off to a prayer meeting rather than the hospital. Thankfully though, she seems to be handling it pretty realistically, and is even taking charge by calling Northwest and forcing them (though it was "against policy") to tell her if Dad safely boarded the plane from Chicago to come home and be treated. Go Mom. I need to remember that although her resources are not the ones I would use, she can be resourceful. She has to be, after having birthed 6 babies and adopted 2. Which..uh..again, is NOT something I would choose.
Dad, though resourceful, ignores pain, and tends to forget things, which drives me to distraction. Apparently, Mom will call tonight once they see his doctor and find out whether he has to have surgery on the spot or what-have-you. I hate the fact that they're half a country away.
When I found out my dad's heart condition had worsened suddenlywhile on a business trip, I found myself worrying that Mom would meet him at the airport to drag him off to a prayer meeting rather than the hospital. Thankfully though, she seems to be handling it pretty realistically, and is even taking charge by calling Northwest and forcing them (though it was "against policy") to tell her if Dad safely boarded the plane from Chicago to come home and be treated. Go Mom. I need to remember that although her resources are not the ones I would use, she can be resourceful. She has to be, after having birthed 6 babies and adopted 2. Which..uh..again, is NOT something I would choose.
Dad, though resourceful, ignores pain, and tends to forget things, which drives me to distraction. Apparently, Mom will call tonight once they see his doctor and find out whether he has to have surgery on the spot or what-have-you. I hate the fact that they're half a country away.
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