Sunday, August 11, 2013

List: More Terrifying Animals

Tonight I was at a dinner party where the conversation turned to "sea mammals" and their value. As usual, my opinion was not on par with the masses (except for my ideological twin and downstairs neighbor, MC Darnell who, incidentally, also is the only other person who hates horses as much as me). 


* He believes they are the two animals that humans have an excessively unhealthy relationship with and made this excellent collage to illustrate our point.

I outlined my disgust with the Stubenville rape bros of the sea: dolphins, as well as our society's unholy obsession with seals (sure, baby seals have soft eyes but be sure they would hold any one of us captive in an underwater torture chamber if they had their druthers) but I don't think I really made much headway. This conversation reminded me that I had been hoarding the following series of terrifying sea beasts in my blog drafts section for far too long.

What is up with Mother Nature? I mean, really? She's been messing with us since before we even existed. Much like the creators of Saw and the marketing team behind Carrot Top she's always thinking of new and unusual ways to make us dry heave. 


And why is it that the most terrifying and horrific beasts come from the sea? I've mentioned this before but where there's water it's guaranteed that there will be something that can make you pee your pants in terror.  I've already documented my loathing of some Poseidon's more well known offerings but horrifying things just keep creeping in to my radar.

Exhibit A: Giant Salamander.
Holy Mary Mother of God, what the fuck is that??  It doesn't even have eyes! It must just track us by the stench of our fear. Apparently, they can live for 75 years which is 74 years, 365 days, 23 hours and 59 minutes too long.  Why have we not formed some sort of international task force of Jason Bournes to destroy these? I would pay extra taxes for sure to make this a reality. What is Obama doing? Hell, I already pay Michelle Bachmann's salary. This I would do gladly. 

Oh and before you hippies get on my case and start being all, "Well that's a just one kind of salamander, Ronnie. Other salamanders are really cute" let me remind you that they are kin to this:


Gott in Himmel! That thing is going to destroy us all! There's really only one thing to do:

* Kudos to you anonymous Chinese family for doing what I do not have the cojones for. Homeboy in the yellow and blue parka looks ready to get to work.

Promachoteuthis Sulcus:
I think I have been more than vocal about my hatred of all forms of squid from the Colossal Squid all the way down to this jerk.
* "Hello. My only purpose is to terrify you."

Unnamed terrifying sea creature:
Jesus christ, this is like the reverse of when the Manimal discovered the platypus and was endeared by its ability to not only be an amalgam of various other animals,  but also lend itself to being his ultimate party conversation starter: "What is a mammal?" Which, if you are ever unfortunate enough to be lured into his conversational web, usually devolves into him saying something like, "So you're fairly confident, then, that mammals don't lay eggs? Would you bet your life on it? Hmmm?"

This bitch is like a reverse see-through platypus. It's got bits of all the wrong stuff and they're all put together in the worst possible way.

Soft Shell Turtle.
Normally I find turtles to be kind of cute and non-threatening. I usually also like (eating) things with the words "soft shell" in them. However, this guy is the terrifying combo of both of these terms. What is going on with his face?? He's got like zombie red eye photo eyes and what seems to be one head coming out of a larger head/neck. 
Normally I'm a big fan of well developed traps:

* oh, hai there Tom Hardy

but that is ridiculous. This is enough for me to forgive the Manimal for eating turtle soup at a Chinese restaurant 8 years ago.

Giant Isopod:
This thing makes me want to revise my aim to eat shrimp every day of my life. *shudder*
My record is 62 days in a row.

Finally, I don't know what this is but it embodies the reason I get nervous swimming in the ocean.


Saturday, June 15, 2013

Rave: Texts

If you know about my fixation on karaoke, 90210 and Ray Pruit you will understand why this text exchange with my BFF BMoney is the best thing that ever happened.


I think I have peaked.

Friday, May 31, 2013

Summer Resolution


It is 2013 and I have reached new depths of lameness. For example, right now I am listening to Ne-yo circa 2008 and eating fistfuls of baklava. Needless to say, I am whale-y and gross. So, like anyone who has sunk to the point where they habitually wear an outfit the Manimal has deemed "failure wear" and who frequently eats Pannettone more than once a day, I have to change things up. I need an inspiration, someone I can look up to who's not John Candy. All good success stories have an older role model guiding and shaping them towards betterment until they force life to just tap out in awe of their brilliance. So, I started thinking: who will be my Summer Resolution icon? Who's life and belief system will I begin to emulate religiously in order to get out of my funk? 
At first I was thinking L'il Wayne:
* And I can already do a French Inhale too. Score!
Pros: He's skinny, and I already partake in the purple drank
Cons: Face tattoos seem painful. And someone already took my first choice 

*An aside: L'il Wayne should not be confused with L'il Albert, the namesake of one of my favorite useless experiments back in the glory days when we could experiment on real human babies.

* John B. Watson "ran out of time" at the end and so L'il Albert was never "desensitized". Oops!

 Then I thought about someone who is also skinny, but whose essence I admire and would not be a stretch to adhere to. 

“My biggest nightmare would be if the kids ever came up to me and said ‘Dad, I’m a vegetarian.’ Then I would sit them on the fence and electrocute them.”

Gordon Ramsay!
Pros: He eats good food, he has a net worth of $50 million for (essentially) cursing, he acts like me in private, but in public! I could be more free!
*Dickface
Cons: Do you see those face crevices? No me gusta. Also, sometimes yelling that hard makes me get that little glob of blood in my eyeball and that's not really so attractive in a lady.
I was starting to get discouraged again when it suddenly dawned on me: I couldn't use anyone I actually resembled because then I'd soon be back to square one. For example, I already yell out gangsta rap and drink prescription grade cough syrup mixed with Sprite. How would following L'il Wayne really elicit any meaningful change? Sure, maybe I could do some jail time but I already have a game plan worked out for that and I don't want to use it up prematurely on a Summer Resolution. 
Then it dawned on me. Who only eats food purer than the driven snow? Who would rather make out with Stevie Janowski than drink booze, let alone downing several To Go cups full of red wine on a Tuesday night? Who is really skinny and already publishes a regular missive devoted to advising people on how to live like her? That's right: Gwyneth Paltrow.  

Gwyneth Kate Paltrow Martin is the daughter of well-to-do parents, and an actress who won an  Best Actress Oscar in 1998 for her forgettable role in Shakespeare in Love.
Pop quiz!
Question: Which of the following films came out in 1998 and  would have deserved an Oscar more than our Gwynnie?
1) An American Tail: The Treasure of Manhattan Island
2) Apt Pupil (a mix of Nazis and Rear Window that I recall Manimal hilariously thought was called Apartment Pupil at the time)
3) The Big Lebowski (!)
4) You've Got Mail
Answer: All of them.
Of late, she has garnered more attention for her charmingly named lifestyle blog: GOOP. People really seem to respond badly to this blog and GP's earnest recs for living the good life. Unlike my girl and convicted felon Martha Stewart who, I think we can all agree, is a staunch bitch and knows her way around a 4 piece, Gwyneth seems a bit feckless. 
But, I must push all of that out of my mind and get to the task at hand. For all her failings, Gwyneth does embody the exact opposite of myself, and that is what I must follow. She did date Brad Pitt in his prime and talk him into copying her hairstyle after all.

Even if she does claim to be "sensitive to dairy, gluten, wheat, corn and oats" I will endeavor to take from her what I can, even though I believe "food sensitivities" are complete bullshit and invented by people who don't want to admit to disordered eating. No matter,  if she tells me to eat chia seed pudding, dammit I will eat chia seed pudding. Maybe I'll even throw a little unsweetened almond milk in there for good measure. 
And so, to jump head first into this challenge and prepare for September 1st when I emerge from a cheetos crusted cocoon and begin my metamorphosis into a lithe and bendy butterfly, I am going to ruminate on some of Ms.Paltrow's random thoughts:

"I'd rather smoke crack than eat cheese from a tin."
Aw shit, this lady is crazy. Crack+cheese in a can= a party.

"When I pass a flowering zucchini plant in a garden, my heart skips a beat."
Me too!

"I don't really have drunk friends. My friends are kind of adult..."
Okaaaayy...

"I've found that the best hangover remedy can be a hot and cold spa treatment. The original would be the traditional Turkish Hamman, but you can find this kind of treatment at spas all over the world."
Interesting. My hangover cure usually goes as follows:

Plus:

Repeat as necessary until you no longer feel like this:

I've heard it helps to write your goals and resolutions down. So with my new icon's help, I will plan my first baby step.

1. Plan out my meals and buy stuff from the supermarket beforehand.
You don't want to get caught out and then end up eating Pad Thai out of a styrofoam container. As Gwynnie so sagely notes: 
She's right, that is total nightmare fuel.

I'll check back with you periodically to make new baby steps and keep you updated on my progress towards becoming a lithe blonde WASP goddess. Hopefully, I'll go from this:



To this:



In no time!

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Rant: Stop the world, I want to get off.

Today, I saw something that indicated that, Mayans aside, we as a whole are certainly spiraling towards our own destruction. I saw this:

* In case you were wondering, that phallic orange thing in the background is their carrot rocket ship.

Yes, that is a children's series dubbed "Paleo Pals". WTF, Life?!?

Look, I know I'm not the best at tolerating other people. And I know I suffer from crippling misophonia that makes me visualize tearing off the faces of those audibly chewing gum and then spitting their bloody parts all over the subway car while laughing maniacally.
* I am trying to get my insurance to pay for this.

I realize that I am judgey and ill tempered but it seems as though this book was created precisely to whip me into a rage finally great enough to make the papers the next day.

Paleo Pals? Come. On. For the uninitiated, "Paleo" refers to the idea of eating as people might have during the Paleolithic era—an era that ended around 10,000 years ago with the development of agriculture. Basically, you can only eat things that a caveman may have had access to. Every fricken person I know is fricken Paleo. Manimal is Paleo except for Shake Shack, my parents are Paleo, many of my lamer friends are Paleo. And, like any other fad, I have to hear about it all the time. Hell, I am almost Paleo but that's because wheat makes me toot like a French Horn and I work in a open cube farm so I would risk severe judgement and ostracizing. 

But, it's not just having to endure endless discussions of poundage lost and energy levels, what really grinds my gears is that most people just eat fake Paleo versions of regular stuff. Cavemen did not whip up "Paleo brownies" for example. And I would wager that Paleolithic men (and more modern Paleo-esque societies) were way too badass to fuck with almond milk of any variety.



Also, how do we know that cavemen did not have access to stuff that would be non-Paleo now? Just as the Dark Ages removed all trace of progress, perhaps there was an unknown event that erased all evidence of cavemen having weird campfire s'mores and fried bugs or whatnot. But really, the worst thing about Paleo Pals is that people are forcing their kids to be Paleo. That's not OK! I'm not saying kids should get to eat a tub of frosting using jellybeans as their cutlery, and I don't think there's ever a true reason to eat Lunchables, but let's be reasonable.

Anyway, the plot of Paleo Pals: Jimmy and the Carrot Rocket Ship goes something like this:

Piper, Phoenix and Parker are not ordinary children; they are super heroes that travel the land helping other children learn about living the healthiest, most exciting, most super lives possible. They are known as The Paleo Pals, and this is a story about how they help out Jimmy, a little boy who is not sure if eating paleo food is even one tiny bit exciting or super. Climb into the carrot rocket ship, travel to brilliant green farms, and live Jimmy’s exciting adventure with Piper, Phoenix and Parker: The Paleo Pals!

Of course they're named Piper, Phoenix and Parker. Their androgynous names allow them not to offend anyone down at the co-op. You know what, after reading this, I had to feel sorry for Jimmy who was simply pushing back on the whole family turning Paleo. At one point, faced with his dinner, Jimmy is less than enthused and yells, "I don't CARE about your oopity-goopity food! And I don't care about being healthy. I guess I'm just gonna starve! I'm going to bed!" At this point I was really pulling for Jimmy. Stand your ground, B. He reminded me of young me, except that he didn't run to his room and take angry hits from a homemade bong (relax folks, I didn't inhale) and then spend hours making retarded mix tapes by taping songs off the radio.

Anyway, when the Paleo Pals learn about Jimmy, they whisk him off in the Weiner Carrot ship and bring him to a farmer's marker (i know) where he selects a "giant purple cabbage"to eat.


* A bunch of kale and some $11 pickles, please.

Another stop: the evil, vaguely Victorian, food processing plant which spews toxic black fumes into the air and is surrounded by dead and dying earth. The Paleo Pals also take Jimmy to a playground where as one Amazon reviewer sagely notes, "kids who don't eat "paleo" are depicted as lethargic, sick, sad, unable to do well at anything, and are even aggressive and angry while those who do eat "paleo" are kind, energetic, successful, and happy as if eating paleo is the only factor that makes a child nice or not; successful or not."

What sort of stupid busy-parent shaming kind of statement is this? I mean, I ate Elios and Sara Lee chocolate pound cake almost every day and I turned out fine. In fact, right now I'm off to beat a man's head in with a rock because he was sucking a hard candy in an irritating manner. So, who needs you anyway, Paleo Pals?