Diary of a Hater

Hey! You know what I hate? Fake cookies! I'm looking at you, oatmeal raisin.



If I wanted all that healthy crap I wouldn't be eating cookies, now would I. It's not like they are good for you either. Is this some sort of guilt avoidance trick? "I want cookies, but I don't want to feel bad about it - I'll just throw some non-delicious crap in there and it will be all better!"

No! It doesn't work like that. Man up and eat a triple chocolate chunk, pansy. Hey raisins, get out of here. You're dumb, you aren't even a grape. You don't belong in my cookies. Sometimes you even trick me into thinking you are chocolate chips and I get SO MAD at you. I hate you.



Hey - you want a broccoli cookie? No! I don't, creep.

My worst birthday ever was the one where my mom get me a carrot cake. CARROT CAKE? You've got to be kidding me. Carrots don't belong in cakes! What am I, a rabbit? Thanks for nothing, MOM. You're lucky I got so many sweet GI Joes that birthday, or you would have been on my shitlist all year.

Destro, you idiot! Carrot cakes are gross!

Also currently hating:
Ineffective air conditioning
Bad drivers
Sirens
World Cup games that don't involve someone getting kicked in the face
Shirts with sleeves
The Man
Waiting a whole week for the next FNL episode
Not having more GAFABPs (Your fault!)

Currently digging/getting stoked on:
Concerts of bands I never thought I'd see (Faith no more, Cap'n Jazz)
Futurama
Kittens (shut up!)
Root Beer!

Thursday Taste Lesson

Well, Flyers, it was a good run. At least now all these fair weather Flyers fans can go back to being fair weather Phillies fans. Whew, those hockey names are way harder to remember. Also Phillies shirts are waaaay cuter for the female fake fans and the bros can take their shirts off at Phillies games. See, not so bad.

On to the recommendations

Eat me.
Good for drowning Flyers based sorrows.

Read me.
Insight.

Shoot me.

Lomography. My inroads to analogue photography.

I am recommending you get a camera and take pictures. Not a digital camera, not shots of you and your homegirls doing shots at the baaaar!! Not pictures of your baby who isn't as cute as you think he is. Pictures of everything else. Pictures of your life, taken on real film with cheap, plastic cameras. It is surprisingly fun and rewarding. A completely different experience than crowding around a little LCD screen on the back of your camera. Take pictures, fill up a roll and drop it off. The excitement of picking up your developed roll is something you haven't felt in a long time. I get my supplies from lomography.com. You can get standard 35 or 120 cameras, or one of the fun, gimicky cameras. Take 4 shots on a frame, take 8 shots on a frame, take landscapes, take pinholes, take long exposures - take what you want. The best part about the "art" that is photography is that anyone can do it and very few can do it well. What this means though, is that you can take pictures, you can have these little miniature works of art to hang around your apartment. They won't be great, but they'll be yours. Do it! You'll be glad you did.

I have decided to pursue higher education, mostly because I am too smart for just a Bachelor's degree. Don't really know what I'll be studying yet, but I am definitely going back, that's decided. Feel free to recommend something to me. Also give me some GAFABPs for tomorrow. Alright suckers, see you tomorrow.

Thursday Taste Lesson

...on a Friday! Lucky you!

Let's just do a photo essay of things I recommend?


yum!


obviously a descendant of Thor. Go Flyers!


Best.


Shop here.


Read this!

I'll say a word about this last one.
A few Christmases ago this book was given to me as a gift. I never read it - sorry gift giver! - until recently. I was missing out. I was really impressed by this book. It really stands out amongst the spate of the cynical, pandering modern fiction wunderkind. This book is terrifying. Not scary in the boo! or serial killer kind of way, but in the heartbreaking "wow life really ruins people" kind of way. It is a collection of short stories and the titular novella. All of the stories are about a character in some Americana tragedy. Very quick read, very effecting read. Read it! and this, read this blog a lot. Hopefully back later with some GAFABP.

Also I think someone is playing Marco Polo outside my apartment.

Code Blue

My mind was boggled and my ghast was flabbered twice at dinner this weekend.
To set the scene: Lovely Lady and I are feeling peckish. She's got a hankering for the mussels of the bar we go to too much.
It's dinner time on a weekend, so we suspect the place will be a shit show. It is, but we find a seat at the bar. We are seated between the loudest man who ever lived and a mind numbingly boring couple which consists of a pandering boyfriend and his fake wine snob girlfriend.

The LMWEL is like an infomercial pitch man, shitty movie dad and Dick Vitale rolled into one. He's there with what I assume is his son, just aggressively talking at him the entire time. Everything is shouted and everything is advice-y. Not good times.

The couple is just a typical lame-o couple. The girl orders some wine, the bartender brings her a glass. She tastes it. The 'tender asks her how she likes it and before rendering her verdict she needs to know what it is. He tells her it's some whatever white wine from Chile. Ooooh yeah I like it, she responds. Then she lectures her boyfriend on the quality of Chilean white wines, but the crappiness of Chilean reds. BLAH BLAH SNORE SNORE. If this girl had gotten a Franzia and he told her it was a Chilean white she would have said the same crap - she asked what it was before saying if she liked it. People are dumb. Wait, I'm supposed to show, not tell. I think I did both.

Unfortunately, enduring those two bookends was only the beginning of the human car crash.
Older couple, enter stage right. They look around for a seat, not finding one they manifest destiny eminent domain our corner of the bar. Reaching over an eating Lovely Lady to order and drink Chardonnays with ice. We have our food at this point. The slightly more manly half of the couple pulls up a chair for his blushing bride at the corner of a bar. Which, as we all know is NOT A SEAT. The place their icy goblets in such a place that whenever they want some they have to literally reach over Lovely Lady's muscular platter. Getting frustrated we dip out to make a phone call and take in the air (read: smoke a cigarette). We announce our intentions. The old fella didn't understand our announcement and asked Lovely Lady if we were leaving. She courteously responds with a definitive 'Nope.' Our 1/4 eaten food, personal effects and Nope were not enough to convince him, he turns to me - "You're NOT leaving?!?!"
No, sir, we are not (paraphrased).
At this point in the retelling I really want to admire this fellas stick-to-it-iveness. Kudos.
Within moments of getting outside we take a break from our bitching about the horrible people inside to notice he was, indeed, not dissuaded. He set up camp in Lovely Lady's seat. Baffling. Creepy, shitty, rude old dude is now talking and leaning and carrying on all over our dinners.
We come back in, he gets up, makes some corny joke and goes back to leaning on Lovely Lady's chair. We couldn't believe it. Lovely Lady was too creeped/grossed to finish her meal. We necessarily switched to drinking. Well, she did.

Those three sets of insanity finally made their way out and we joked and laughed with the bartenders at the sheer craziness that our night had been to this point. 'People these days...' and all that.

Then came in some younger couples. Mid 30s. The last couple to arrive comes in toting a baby in a baby carrier thing. Great, we'll have to deal with a shrieking baby. So they come in, great their friends and blow my mind. They plop their baby down - ON THE BAR. Baby on the bar. Where it stayed for the next hour and half while the parents joked and drank with their friends. Baby on the bar.
I of course texted my friends about the craziness going down. Funny responses: 'Body shots!' and the command 'Spin it!'

I am glad I am not horrified, but amused. People are crazy, rude and self centered. The least we can do is laugh at them. Not our place to straighten em out, but to laugh at them in the comfort of out-of-earshot and blogs.