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Do you ever feel guilty when friends of your parents/older relatives tell you how proud they are of you when you accomplish something major, using terms like bright, accomplished, impressive, and extraordinary? I can’t help but feel as though I’m cheating them whenever they compliment me in such a manner, seeing as I still laugh at the word penis and make abortion jokes.
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**Before anyone says anything, I have indeed tried Twitter, so I can do the knocking of the thing as the trying did occur. I was on it in early 2008 (roughly January-March, actively) and deleted it in early 2009.
1) I’m way subversive
2) There is really, literally, no one that cares to know everything that you do at the exact time you do it. If someone like that exists, they are called a “stalker” or “Paris Hilton’s New BFF”.
3) If you have such deeply profound thoughts that you need a platform on which to publish them as they come to you, and this occurs >10 times a day, your thoughts aren’t so profound. They probably aren’t funny, either. There are very few people with consistently funny and/or thought-provoking twitter accounts. People that are only occasionally entertaining substantially lower their goodness quotient by tweeting (ugh, tweeting) lots of insipid posts for every good post. You might be thinking, “what to do now? I have so many thoughts and nothing to do with them!” Game plan: suck it up, tell it to a friend, write it in a notebook, or get a fucking Tumblr and social network like a real man (WHATTTUUUUUUP TUMBLR BUDDAAAAYS?)
4) Saying “@DoucheyGrrl5000 yeah lollllll that was so funny” is not interesting to anyone except you and DoucheyGrrl, although it probably isn’t that interesting to her, either. Why are you publishing that to the entire world? You don’t need to pollute the internetz, your reputation, and the collective intelligence of mankind with this type of communication. What you are essentially saying is “LOOK, EVERYBODY!! I HAVE A REAL LIVE FRIEND AND I AM RESPONDING TO SOMETHING THEY SAID TO ME FIRST AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND! I AM WANTED AND I AM LOVED!!!!” Wouldn’t it just be easier and more intimate to just call/e-mail/text/wait until you see the person who you are @-ing and share this morsel with them more privately?
5) I know that RT means retweet and I know that I frequently use reblogging as a form of content on my own…blogthing, but when you only have 120 characters or whatever it is, I really don’t understand the necessity of using so many of them to retweet something. Send the person a goddamn e-mail in reference to what they are saying. Do you think that you are clever because you have the ability to spot out someone else’s tweet as being funny or an interesting topic of conversation? You are not.
I would carry on with this, but instead I will close with my take-home points:
Sometimes I wonder why I don’t just start a music blog. Then I happen upon a music blog of a friend or acquaintance and remember why: it’s because I’m not a huge cunt
Google Docs is suddenly fucking up all my formatting when it converts files. I’m talking fucked up in a reeeeeally bad way, like page numbers in the middle of sentences and hanging tabs…well, those are in the middle of sentences, too. Is this happening to anyone else? Something must be horribly wrong with the universe if Google has caused me to have to do this much work over the past few days. What happened, you guyz? Where did the Google magic go? My calendar is always down, Docs are being lame…what’s next, another Gmail outage? Heaven forbid. I shouldn’t even speak of such atrocities.
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It was brought to my attention today that the only things I “blog” about are half-naked men and shoes. As I created this thing to be a sort of portal into my mind (a John Malkovich of sorts), I am very disappointed in myself. I only think about half-naked men and shoes a little bit, and it is my intention to return to my roots and begin to post absolute nonsense once again.
When I got home tonight I realized I had been wearing my underwear inside out since about 8.30pm. The only reason I find this remarkable is that, in my life, it is not remarkable at all, as I do this all the time. To be honest, I don’t exactly wear underwear that provide…a great deal of coverage, so I should probably notice that I am wearing them incorrectly. Apparently it’s really unhealthy because it doesn’t let your junk breathe.
I think this is why I stopped blogging and started posting naked people.
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I watched Mulholland Drive the other day with my dad, and I must say I’m really sick of pretentious swill being touted as “the best film of the 2000s” and blah blah blah. Dude, it was god awful. I don’t see how an oddly-acted, nonsensical, weird and painful two-and-a-half hours needs to be considered genius because there is no way any person on this earth understands what the fuck it means. Just say “I don’t get it!” Not “Oh, there are so many interpretations and it’s so special and who knows what it means?!” That means it had no plot. Pull your lips off your own asshole and watch a movie where something actually happens.
Bloomberg rides the subway?
Doesn’t every multi-billionaire?
See, here’s my issue with this. Congratulations, you ride the subway and you’re uber-rich. I would give you more credit for it if 1) New York street traffic wasn’t the most miserable situation in the universe and 2) you ever SHUT THE FUCK UP about it.
You know how they say the act of giving is better felt that announced? When you do something good, it feels better to keep it to yourself instead of shouting it to the world? Perhaps, kind mayor, you should stop staging fucking photo-ops on the downtown 6 because I’d be a lot more impressed by your subway-riding self if you just did it instead of going “LOOK MOMMY I’M RIDING THE SUBWAY OHMAHGAAAAAWD” like every fucking day since you ran for your first term. We get it. You’re rich. You ride the subway. We got it 10 years ago, when you first started yammering about it.
I needed to get that out. Also, I don’t waste aggression on things that don’t matter
Tomorrow I take the Greyhound home.
I fucking love you so much it hurts me a little bit inside. But yeah, shortly after this happened a really obnoxious woman sat next to me on the bus home one day, and as I was getting off I said to her, “You know, you’re lucky I’m not that Canadian Greyhound guy, you obnoxious witch”. True tale.
I really don’t understand why I sweat so much. It’s lovely that the weather is getting warm and the sun is shining, it really is! It is not lovely that I am now in a constant state of balminess. On Thursday I dressed in layers so as to avoid sweating, yet as soon as I got on the bus I quickly stripped down to a tank top because it was dripping off of me. It is not very attractive. Luckily, my sweat is odorless. I’m serious! It’s not one of those “if it’s me it doesn’t count” things. I swear, my sweat smells like nothing. It just feels like…I’m covered in a light layer of saran wrap. Always. When I got out of the shower today, I was already sweating. That’s not cool.
Strangely, I love saunas.
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Man, have I been useless at tumbling lately or what? I know, I know. I feel no inspiration as of late. I’m sure it will come back soon, which I’m sure is great news to all of you (Caroline). So I’m on Hypemachine right now and listening to Peter Gabriel cover various things. He does the most depressing covers, ever, maybe. They were of Flume and My Body is a Cage, so not the happiest songs. Still, though, I didn’t realize Peter Gabriel was so emoXcore. Listen at your own risk.
I think the world would be a better place if gangs only took part in West Side Story-esque rumbles. No deaths, though. Just crouching, snapping, and pirouettes.
I’ve been extra suck at updating lately, and by lately I mean for the past 8 months. I really have nothing to say or share. I’m watching an old SP right now. Cartman just said Scott Tennerman needs to have his wiener bit off by a pony and then the guys in Radiohead will think he’s totally not cool. Why is it that that NEVER stops being funny? Also, that Cartman refers to himself as a “young, supple eight-year-old boy”.
Do you think it would be cool to have a commentator evaluate your life for a day? I would be curious. Also, when I make my daily ascent up the Agro-Crag I feel strangely empty without hearing any background noise.
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I’m SO DEHYDRATED
I really can’t figure out why because I’ve basically been living on a liquid diet. I drink so much juice filled with scary sounding green things like spirulina and blue-green algae and stuff. Yesterday I got carrot-apple-parsley juice on Delancey at this little shack outside and it was SO DELICIOUS. Fucking parsley, man
So the Naked green juice (which isn’t actual green juice but I digress) is only available in half-sized containers in Starbucks in America now…um, twat the fuck dude? I could pound back 100 of those in my sleep. In Edi Starbucks they serve the full-sized ones and that’s the way it should fucking be, man. Those fill you up.
This was really important and made sense also
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It just occurred to me that it is December 2nd and this is actually the last month of 2009. Think about that for a second. 2009 is ending. This has been, without any doubt, the fastest year of my life times a thousand. I feel like my twentieth birthday celebration was a month ago, not 11 months.
Maybe it’s because I’m living somewhere different? I don’t know, I guess I basically did start a whole new life here that feels separate from reality as I once knew it, if that makes any sense. All I know is, it is absolutely terrifying how quickly 2009 went by. I can’t believe that what feels like such a short period of time can contain all the guts that it does.