Darth Efficient, Sith Lord of Homework

I'm in the middle of an historic procrastination session, and I dare say I may have outdone myself this time. And I'm no slouch in this area, in fact I'm an expert. As far as not doing homework goes, I'm world class. I still haven't turned in my Spanish 3 final; it was due at the end of the hour four years ago.

Anyway,
I'll be up all nite writing a stupid paper that probably won't even ever get read (and certainly not by me), so entertain me.

And I know, I know, worst post ever. Beat you to it.

Saturday Morning Veronica Mars Discussion No. 5

To Err is Human, to Forgive Aaron is Divine



Okay, so what if Aaron Echolls was boning his son's girlfriend, it's not like she wasn't hot. Plus she TOTALLY seduced him, what choice did he have? Was he supposed to turn her down? You know what that would have done to her fragile self-esteem; it would have crushed her (her spirit, not like, you know, her skull or something).

Plus, did you see how fucking hideous his wife was? You telling me you'd really rather bed that surgically-disfigured, lips-look-like-a-macy's-parade-float, eel-woman than the lovely and glorious Lilly Kane? Only Moronica, with his every-increasing list of sexual hangups, could make such a claim with a straight face.

I guess my point is that I think this guy is a badass. All you Logan-lovers need to recognize (and we're going with the alternate 'rek-uh-nize' pronounciation) that your beloved anti-hero is just the kroger version of his old man. Call me crazy, but I don't like knock-offs or remakes.

And how could you not sympathize with the man after hearing his impassioned testimony in the court room? Maybe I'm just a bleeding heart liberal, but I think the poor guy deserves a second chance. I heard that President Bartlett was even considering giving him a presdential pardon if he'd been convicted (of murder, not of being a badass, in which case he would have pled "motherfucking guilty, your honor").

And I'm not completely alone here...




(lyrics)

I don't negotiate with errorists

My submit button has gone missing. It's been over 48 hours and I've notified law enforcement officials. I also called the Hays Daily News because I was 100% positive they would want to run a story (front page, above the fold is what I suggested). And Babbles personal private eye is on the case.

So this morning/afternoon/whatever I got a text that read, "Wut u doin? =)."

It went on: "If you ever want to see your submit button again you need to bring a decent amount of scrilla to the sixth hole on the disc golf course at Summer Lane and 41st this afternoon."

Right away I noticed the message was strangely vague about time and amount but pretty specific about place. That frisbee golf course is in my neighborhood so it'll be easy to find but I'm pretty sure that whatever was meant by a "decent amount of scrilla" is more than the -$12.54 that's in my account.

And this afternoon? I hope this buttonnapper is planning on waiting around the whole day because If I do show up, it'll be whenever I feel like it.

At first I was worried that someone had flipped Babbles' P.I., Vinnie Van Lowe, but, really, he's more of a professional than that. (Van Lowe for Sheriff '08!!)

Anyway. The upshot of all this is I'm not really into getting my submit button back if it's going to be a huge hassle. So until I hear from Vinnie this texter can go fuck himself on a disc golf course.

My latest fascination...

Fucking wine with snakes in it.



Okay, first off, don't think it's as simple as just putting a snake into a bottle of rice wine. You've got to gut the snake first (but don't forget, the heart goes back into the bottle, not in the scrap bucket).

See:


Two notes about the video:
1.) It creeped me the fuck out.
2.) I found it by typing in to google, I swear to god, "snake wine what the fuck".

Apparently this very, very manly intoxicant isn't just for looks; drinking it supposedly helps cure everything from diabetes to down syndrome (that's in addition to increasing your sexual prowess- because seriously, it wouldn't be a weird Asian custom if it didn't, now would it?).

But who cares why anyone would make it, the real question is how does it taste?

"It would best be described as a combination of Japanese Sake and cheap tequila with subtle tones of formaldehyde and fish jerky."

Another taster described it as:

"The taste was mysteriously bland, like licking envelope flaps or stamps. Oh, and the bottle I bought listed "ethanol" as its main ingredient."

Personally, I give the first description much more merit; any bottle of snake wine with a list of ingredients is definitely not the real deal. Plus the second quote came from a guy who writes for The Washington Post, and you'd have to be some kind of pussy to write for the The Washington Post.

Apparently the more poisonous the snake, the more badass the wine is (don't worry, the poison is broken down chemically by the alcohol).

Here's the best part of snake wine- you never run out; once you drink the bottle down you're supposed to just put more rice wine in and let it age a few months. BAM! More snake wine. It's like what Jesus did with the fish and the loaves of bread.

But, if you're re-using one bottle for an extended period of time, be careful. If you shake the bottle, the dead, gutless reptile you're storing in a bottle of something you plan on later drinking will shed its scales. And that would be gross.

It's the Monday after Spring Break and you know what that means...

It's sometimes-commenter Usher's birthday!

Also, I don't know if it's stress, my awful, awful diet, lack of sunlight, or what, but you should see my complexion; more like spring break-out.

Anyway, HAPPY B-DAY or whatever. And since it's your special day, treat yourself; don't read the blarg today.

Saturday Morning Veronica Mars Discussion No. 4

Season 4: do you or do you not give a fuck? would you watch? Or would this be like the third Back to the Future movie, where you're better off just pretending it never happened?

I think the casting of her love interest(s) was poorly done; the Veronica I know wouldn't be interested in speeners of a caliber this pathetically low. And I'd miss the old favorites (both characters and settings), but how could I not watch? I can't leave my special lady friend hanging; I'd tune in...

what the hell was I thinking.

No, I know what I was thinking and it was something like this (in whiny high-schooler voice): "Why NOT run for senior class president? It's not like class officers actually DO anything. Plus, It'll look really good on my transcript."

I found out the day of the "election" that the senior class president is responsible for planning class reunions. I tried to back out of the race (failed), won, and have been worrying about it for the last. nine. years.

I could refuse to acknowledge the responsibility (like I've been planning on doing) and let someone else take it over at the last minute when they realize it's not getting done any other way. Or I could bite the bullet, enlist the help of all my fuckface high school friends, and start planning a goddamn 10-year class reunion. I generally consider avoidance of guilt a pretty piss poor motive for action, but that's not necessarily going to stop me.

The worst part: My transcript? Srsly?! If only I had known then what I know now. I would have had a lot more sex, smoked a lot more pot, and I would have had a much less impressive fucking transcript.

My St. Catrick's Day felt a lot like this

But with more cats.

Also. My house looks and smells like a bar. At least it's a change.

And my brother showed up and did a few dishes. I also let him hang out with some of my friends.

When compared to other Spring Breaks this one is holding its own.

Saturday Morning Veronica Mars Discussion No. 3

I know it's a very personal question, but, if you feel comfortable sharing, who got your vote in the sheriff election?

I voted for Vinnie Van Lowe, but only because Keith entertains me more when he's being a sneaky fuck than when he's the long arm of the law.

Also, during Vinnie's stint in the military police, crime dropped 20% across U.S. military bases.

my sister's a whore.

Just wondered if she reads this. If so I suppose I can be expecting a phone call.

What the French, Toast?

So very few days pass in this concrete and white walled prison . . . *ahem*, institute of higher learning where I don't find someone to focus my contempt upon, and today I've decided to share him with all of you.

Mr. Roger Kimball

I came across Mr. K as he was railing against the classification of americans by hyphenation. (that damn hyphenation, always at the root of all America's problems). His argument is that calling yourself "African-American", "Asian-American" and so on, and so forth, signifies that you are only provisionally american, and as such, have only a divided allegiance at best. And regardless of my low opinion of his argument, it was the analogy he used next that solidified his new status as "Arch-Nemesis of the Day".

He says this is similar to the problem of hyphenating of the brides name in marriage. It is a gesture of independence that is simultaneously a declaration of divided loyalty.

Listen up, Jackass - I have one of (if not THE) coolest last name on the planet, and apparently 'cause I don't want to trade it on for something all plain-vanilla-mediocre like . . . oh, I don't know. . . Kimball - I will never have as solid a commitment to my marriage as someone who would. Damn me and my independence prone, disloyal heart. If I happen to come across a certain Mr. Jesus C. Superstar I may take his last name, by the same token, if I fall head over heels for Viktor Sleazak -- chances are I'll keep what I've got, thanks. And either way, it's none of Mr. Kimball's business.

Filling space like a.v.e.'s "miyagi"

I'm so fucking lazy that I used a cancellation today as an excuse to leave work at 1:30 (I get there at noon) so I could go play outside. A friend and I played soccer (kind of) in the street, ate red velvet cupcakes, and afterwards we shared a forty out of a paper sack. On the porch. While the elementary school across the street was letting out.

I did it up 406-style.

Another thing I'm vaguely ashamed of:

Not all the time, but SOME of the time I'm a compulsive weather-checker. I may or may not check the current 10-day forecast against the historic average for my zip code. A few minutes ago I checked the weather for my weekend (rainy, naturally) and here's what I saw:



I did.

It was jumpin'.

Hybrids should be able to park in handicapped spots

I mean the cars, not like wolf people or something. And I'm not just saying this because I want one.

Saturday Morning Veronica Mars Discussion No. 2

First, Usher, obviously, spoiler alert. stay out of this.


Favorite scene (or most memorable), again, using the criteria of your choosing.

GO!

Also, now this thread is interactive:

Here's my favourite...





I like the reference to the first episode when it was Weevil beating up Logan in front of her, asking "do you want your friend to apologize?" Plus, seriously, who doesn't melt when they see these two together???

Attn: Moronica

Bars, don't marry Corndog Girl. Marry Slut Machine. Here's video proof that she's your soul mate:

"Pot Psychology"

Plus, you can skip the roses and stuff 'cause she's already seen your weiner.

fuck you, i'm sick.

This is what I feel like:



Not even regular ass, but stupid brown cat ass. I have the fucking usual list of symptoms that accompany the death flu and goddamnit I want some sympathy. Or at least some Tylenol. I would even settle for coffee. We ran out and I'm too weak and sickly (and mostly just too self-pitying) to go get more.

On the bright side, along with the cat ass illustration I found a pic of my (or your?) next tattoo:




*GROAN* going back to bed.

I want to believe!

when class starts with this: “ now here we have our happy little pie chart, and in this half are aliens. . . “ you’d think you were in store for a rollicking good time - especially if you consider yourself to be a sci-fi geek (and I do).
This sounds like the kind of math problem I can handle.

Alas, this is not Fox Mulder standing up there, it isn’t even Bob Engler (who would be a big step up from this particular professor) . . . and despite the discussion of EWI’s, OOS’s, and the statutes referring to “alien crewmen” this is the longest three hours of my week.

I think Wednesdays are the new February.

At least I have this blahg

I'm not saying I'm a righteous-living, God-fearing exemplar of humanity like our friend Job. I'm actually a lot more like our other friend Gob. All I'm saying is there's a precedent for someone up there fucking around with people down here basically just for kicks.

I've long had the sneaking suspicion that I'm one of God's Chosen-To-Be-Fucked-With People and this last weekend kind of strengthens my case.

Sometime on Friday while at work with the adult retards. I lost my keys and I haven't found them. There might be a spare set somewhere but the car I drive belongs to someone else in a different city so the car is cooling its jets way out in the country where we keep the adults with many many disabilities (not least of which is their sexual predation but that's a whole other post). I did spend my only two days off in I don't know how long looking for these keys, or walking my bike with one flat tire (and I can't just buy a new tube at Wal-Mart because, like an idiot, I have non-standard size wheels), or sitting around Professor's waiting for my friends to get off work so they can give me a ride. It was exactly how I wanted to spend my one weekend off. But it wasn't all misery and indignity. The weather was snowy and icy and I did get a chest cold and I did lock my medication in my car so by Sunday morning I was going through a very unpleasant withdrawal. Ah well.

i heart craigslist

Im trying out a new career as a videoggrafur. Whaddaya think?

I'm so out of the loop

How the fuck did I not know about this little nugget??

There was a time when my entire existence revolved around repeat screenings of MS (my life was much better then).

And, one of my favorite pieces of Corey Feldman related trivia is that MS was supposed to be another Haim/Feldman blockbuster (as was Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure). Wouldn't that have been the cat's pajamas?

It's a disaster waiting to happen

Last September I purchased this:


It was really cheap and in awesome condition (and it's fucking adorable) and I was working with a bunch of dudes who like to work on motorcycles in their spare time and would think it was fun to teach a girl how to ride a bike. (Or at least laugh at me while I wrecked a bike.)

But I don't work with those fuckfaces anymore, and the bike takes like 40 kicks to start (because I don't know how much it costs to fix a starter but it's more than I'm willing to pay) and I look like a goddamn idiot doing it because by the time I get it started I'm all sweaty and out of breath.

The last time I got it started I had to take a break from the kicking because it took so many tries, and when I did get it started I realized that because I had parked it ass-end-out and because I'm not strong enough to lift it over the concrete dam that sits like a parking block in front of the garage door, the fucking bike was going nowhere. I wanted to torch it.

And I'm not sure if I mentioned that I still don't really know how to ride it. I've never ventured out of the 2-block radius that keeps me out of traffic. I've also never ventured out of 2nd gear.

And now I wake up and see this:



and... I guess... I'll go try to start it.

*sigh*

I'll update later from the emergency room.

Saturday Morning Veronica Mars Discussion No. 1

Using the criteria of your choosing, select your favorite season-