Alright so I'm kind of in love with the show "Say Yes to the Dress". It's kind of the best show ever. These girls come in to a bridal shop and bring their bitchy mothers and sisters and basically just bitch at the poor bridal consultants for 30 minutes. Actually, most of them are really nice, but some of the mothers are FUCKING HEINOUS BITCHES.
Anyway, so the show inspired me to think about my wedding. I decided that I do not want my mother help me pick my dress. She always thinks I look fat in everything and need to cover my boobs more and I'm all like "HEY MOM guess what? You're daughter's fat so maybe that's why she looks fat in everything. And your boobs would be everywhere too if you had DDD's! So shut up!" Then she'd totally freak the fuck out and start crying like she did when she moved me into the dorms my freshman year because I told her not to embarrass me in front of all my future friends. That was like the worst thing ever. Oh my God. Why do children so such evil things to their parents? Or worse, why do parents have to cry? Fuck that. That's like a torture device for me. I saw my dad cry once and I nearly shit my pants. WTF.
Oh my, that was definitely not where I was going with this one. What I'm trying to say is that I don't trust anyone to tell me if I look good except for God, myself, Stacy London, and Clinton Kelly. That's about it. I really need friends with a sense of fashion, but (and I know this is really sad because I dress like a fucking freak) I am the most fashionable person I know that isn't my sister, who would basically take over the whole dress appointment and tell me to go home because fat girls can't get married. I hate my life.
Anyway, I'm never getting married and I hate everyone. Love, Alex Finlay
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
African American, 25 year-old, Drug Dealer and Pimp Stepdad
So, about two years ago now, my mom and brother decide to do a “mother – son” trip. After looking over their options, they decided upon Africa, more specifically: The Gambias. It was a planned 8 day trip of sun and fun. After a couple days of chilling at the beach, my brother is approached by this one guy asking if he wants to buy some sex from his sisters. My brother being the smart 16 year-old boy that he was, wisely declined. Then, the man asked him “what about ganja?”. My brother slightly more tempted by this offer declined to buy some of this African sensimilla. However, they did end up smoking together. My mom had no idea what my brother did for the next two days as he always left for a while to hang out with his new buddy. Well, after a couple days my mom met this guy, who is about 25 (or so they think- there are no birth records, and that knowledge didn’t seem relevant). My mom is a 49 year-old white lady. Well it turns out that when they met, they really hit it off. Well they only had 4 more days to hang out before my mom and brother went back to Sweden where they live. So, the night before my mom leaves, they get engaged. For the next year they are talking on the phone and sending email letters to each other, trying to figure out how to get him to Sweden. Well towards the end of the first year, they finally figure out a way. After a month of being in Sweden, they get married. And that is how I ended up with an African American, 25 year-old, drug dealer and pimp stepdad!
/Michael Platten
/Michael Platten
Friday, November 27, 2009
Drunk Texting/ Steve Jobs [Paul Herzog]
Texting is fun, isn’t it? I’m a big drunk texter. Love it. What I really need is like, a rosetta stone that can translate my drunk texts before I send em out. That would super fucking duper. Because I’ll be talking to the girl next day and she’ll be like, “Yeah, uhh, you sent me a text at 3:30 am saying ‘I’m gonna dragon fuck you so hard you’ll cum a fireball.’ You wanna tell me what kind of mid-evil drunken fuckery was going on in your booze head when you sent that?” I’m like, ohh sorry. Looks like I got drunk and watched A Knights tale again.
I always drunk text via iPhone. Aren’t they just a treat?! I feel like when Steve Jobs was a kid he had one of those retardedly overactive imaginations. You remember that kid? Always saying the most ridiculous shit, everyones like “shut up Steve.” He was so that guy. Him and his friends are on the swings at recess, and one of his friends is like, “my dad just spent $200 on a CD player, and now we listen to whatever songs we want. Its so cool”. Then Steve Jobs jumps in like, “Yeah! Well I’m gonna invent a tiny magic rectangle that can have every song ever on it, and its gonna be a phone too, and its a takes pictures. and you can play video games on it, and watch movies, annnd I’m only gonna sell this awesome box for $99.” Steve Jobs you were one retarded little boy. Then the iPhone came out and it turns out his overactive imagination did get the last laugh. Good thing he never got put on Ridelin, or else we would live in a world with no iPod, iPhone, or Mac Book Pro. Thanks retard imagination of Steve Jobs, you’ve made our world that much better.
I always drunk text via iPhone. Aren’t they just a treat?! I feel like when Steve Jobs was a kid he had one of those retardedly overactive imaginations. You remember that kid? Always saying the most ridiculous shit, everyones like “shut up Steve.” He was so that guy. Him and his friends are on the swings at recess, and one of his friends is like, “my dad just spent $200 on a CD player, and now we listen to whatever songs we want. Its so cool”. Then Steve Jobs jumps in like, “Yeah! Well I’m gonna invent a tiny magic rectangle that can have every song ever on it, and its gonna be a phone too, and its a takes pictures. and you can play video games on it, and watch movies, annnd I’m only gonna sell this awesome box for $99.” Steve Jobs you were one retarded little boy. Then the iPhone came out and it turns out his overactive imagination did get the last laugh. Good thing he never got put on Ridelin, or else we would live in a world with no iPod, iPhone, or Mac Book Pro. Thanks retard imagination of Steve Jobs, you’ve made our world that much better.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Mariah
Sean Gereghty
Final Blog
Is it strange that Mariah Carey’s music scares me? Well, it does. Not all of it. I used to like her music very much but then I met a girl named Sierra who made up stories about us living together and liked to tell people we were in a relationship. She also made up a man and made up that he impregnated her and made up that she miscarried because of her made up health problems from her made up cancer which she got several times in several made up places but still managed to get pregnant again and miscarry [made up] that one too. This is relevant to Mariah Carey because one of my old favorites of her, “Always Be My Baby,” is now ruined because I can’t help but picture Sierra rocking back and forth in the fetal position singing “Ooh boy, you know you can’t escape me” quietly to herself. What’s worse is she actually once said “You will always be my baby.” I hadn’t decided I hated her yet because I hadn’t quite realized how much she was ruining most aspects of my life, so I said “Okay” so she would stop crying. In all honesty, I fully intended this blog to be about Mariah Carey. I really like the song “All I Want For Christmas Is You.” I sing it into my hairbrush. But the song “Touch My Body,” aside from my strong personal dislike toward the melody, the line “I will hunt you down” gives me the chills. Sierra might try to hunt me down. She could be doing it right now.
This was supposed to be about Mariah Carey.
Final Blog
Is it strange that Mariah Carey’s music scares me? Well, it does. Not all of it. I used to like her music very much but then I met a girl named Sierra who made up stories about us living together and liked to tell people we were in a relationship. She also made up a man and made up that he impregnated her and made up that she miscarried because of her made up health problems from her made up cancer which she got several times in several made up places but still managed to get pregnant again and miscarry [made up] that one too. This is relevant to Mariah Carey because one of my old favorites of her, “Always Be My Baby,” is now ruined because I can’t help but picture Sierra rocking back and forth in the fetal position singing “Ooh boy, you know you can’t escape me” quietly to herself. What’s worse is she actually once said “You will always be my baby.” I hadn’t decided I hated her yet because I hadn’t quite realized how much she was ruining most aspects of my life, so I said “Okay” so she would stop crying. In all honesty, I fully intended this blog to be about Mariah Carey. I really like the song “All I Want For Christmas Is You.” I sing it into my hairbrush. But the song “Touch My Body,” aside from my strong personal dislike toward the melody, the line “I will hunt you down” gives me the chills. Sierra might try to hunt me down. She could be doing it right now.
This was supposed to be about Mariah Carey.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
ANGRY BLOG!!! by Alex Machock
I’M SO ANGRY!
Why am I so angry? Because my life is horrible, that's why!
NO! I Don’t care what you say about children starving in Africa, or the Holocaust. MY LIFE IS WAY WORSE!
I SWEAR!
You don't believe me? First of all,
I HATE YOU, STOP BEING A DICK!
Secondly, let me tell you about an average day for me, and you'll see why I lead the worst existence imaginable.
First of all, I had class 9:30 AM. But I went to sleep at 3. That adds up to about six hours of sleep! SIX HOURS! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION WITH ANYTHING LESS THEN 13 HOURS A DAY? FUCKING HELL, I'M SURE THE PRISONERS IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH A LACK OF SLEEP THIS BAD!!
But wait guys, it gets worse. No joke.
So I wake up and go pour myself some cereal. But get this, there’s no milk. I’m seriously out of fucking milk! BUT I WANT TO EAT CEREAL!! HOW AM I GONNA EAT IT NOW?! SWEET BEARDED JESUS, GUANTANAMO BAY PRISONERS DON’T EVEN HAVE TO DEAL WITH SHIT THIS BAD! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? POUR MY CAPTAIN CRUNCH BACK INTO THE CEREAL BOX LIKE AN ASSHOLE? NO! THAT’S ABSURD!
So I'm walking to my 9:30 class…without any breakfast mind you.
...oh, and did I mention this is 9:30 in the morning? HOLY SHIT HAS THEIR EVER BEEN AN EARLIER CLASS IN THE HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION?! WHO THE HELL IS UP AT 9:30 AM? NOBODY, THAT'S WHO!!
Anyway I’m walking to class and I see this jerkoff walking in the opposite direction. I try to ignore him but then he recognizes me from class last year. We make eye contact and he goes “what’s up?”
…WHAT’S UP? WHAT’S UP?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? CAN’T HE SEE I’M TRYING TO WALK TO CLASS? WHAT KIND OF INCONSIDERATE ASSHOLE WOULD INTERRUPT MY WALKING WITH SUCH TRIVIAL BULLSHIT? I HATE YOU! By the way, nice beanie fucktard. I’m being sarcastic though, because your beanie is not nice at all and actually looks quite foolish on your head. DID I MENTION I HATE YOU?
So I punched the guy in the face and ran off crying.
Seriously, my life is hell.
Why am I so angry? Because my life is horrible, that's why!
NO! I Don’t care what you say about children starving in Africa, or the Holocaust. MY LIFE IS WAY WORSE!
I SWEAR!
You don't believe me? First of all,
I HATE YOU, STOP BEING A DICK!
Secondly, let me tell you about an average day for me, and you'll see why I lead the worst existence imaginable.
First of all, I had class 9:30 AM. But I went to sleep at 3. That adds up to about six hours of sleep! SIX HOURS! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION WITH ANYTHING LESS THEN 13 HOURS A DAY? FUCKING HELL, I'M SURE THE PRISONERS IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH A LACK OF SLEEP THIS BAD!!
But wait guys, it gets worse. No joke.
So I wake up and go pour myself some cereal. But get this, there’s no milk. I’m seriously out of fucking milk! BUT I WANT TO EAT CEREAL!! HOW AM I GONNA EAT IT NOW?! SWEET BEARDED JESUS, GUANTANAMO BAY PRISONERS DON’T EVEN HAVE TO DEAL WITH SHIT THIS BAD! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? POUR MY CAPTAIN CRUNCH BACK INTO THE CEREAL BOX LIKE AN ASSHOLE? NO! THAT’S ABSURD!
So I'm walking to my 9:30 class…without any breakfast mind you.
...oh, and did I mention this is 9:30 in the morning? HOLY SHIT HAS THEIR EVER BEEN AN EARLIER CLASS IN THE HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION?! WHO THE HELL IS UP AT 9:30 AM? NOBODY, THAT'S WHO!!
Anyway I’m walking to class and I see this jerkoff walking in the opposite direction. I try to ignore him but then he recognizes me from class last year. We make eye contact and he goes “what’s up?”
…WHAT’S UP? WHAT’S UP?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? CAN’T HE SEE I’M TRYING TO WALK TO CLASS? WHAT KIND OF INCONSIDERATE ASSHOLE WOULD INTERRUPT MY WALKING WITH SUCH TRIVIAL BULLSHIT? I HATE YOU! By the way, nice beanie fucktard. I’m being sarcastic though, because your beanie is not nice at all and actually looks quite foolish on your head. DID I MENTION I HATE YOU?
So I punched the guy in the face and ran off crying.
Seriously, my life is hell.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Nick Edrick Blog 4
When people ask me why I’m a history major, I usually give the stock answer of “I like it.” History interests me because I like to know the deeper reasons behind events. For instance, the Civil War happened because of slaves. And slaves happened because of the Pyramids. And those happened because God said so. We can plainly see that everything happened because God said so, and so I sum up history into one sentence: “Because God (or someone) said so.” Other majors can also be summed up into concise sentences. Economics is “These two lines are a graph. This graph represents change over time. Poor people.” American Studies is “WERE NOT RACIST, WE SWEAR!!!” And biology is “Take this class 4 times till you pass it.” Someday, Ill probably write a book wherein I sum up all knowledge into easy paragraphs. But no one will read it. Have to study for bio.
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