Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Tales of a Rookie Barista

I've joined the rest of the nerds in 2010 and started using a camera. Now you can actually hear me babble and view my unkempt room! I apologize in advance for the kind of abrupt ending. I'm learning here.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Stupid Explanations and Lazy Revelations

I hit deadlines about as well as JFK gets through Dealey Plaza.

About every time I state something will be posted at a certain date, you could bet a fortune it's simply not gonna happen.

However, this time around with the Bomber's Dozen, my proverbial block wasn't simply procrastination but something more legitimate; THERE HAVE BEEN NO NEWS STORIES.

I'll open the veil to the backroom: I gave the Bomber's Dozen stuff a 2 week hiatus to allow the world to bubble with more absurd news for me to harvest. Except it didn't. Instead, I got more Katy Perry being Katy Perry and how the Leeds Festival substantiates my tragedy of not being British.

I did however save six stories which are worth doing something goofy with. I'll have to goof on them when I've stopped being an exhausted rookie Barista. Which, by the way, has been going awesome and needs to be blogged about.

This blog had two titles, because along with revealing to you that I'm about as reliable as Judas and the world has done nothing of relevance for 2 weeks, I've just spent this entire morning watching "Doctor Who" from 10AM to 4PM. And it was fan-fucking-tastic.

I initially watched the show back when it premiered years ago in England through fileshare programs and eventually lost track. Downloading got incredibly grating after a while. It's such a fun series that I'm pretty disappointed I've missed out on it over the years.

More importantly (Or really, slightly more narcissistic), I haven't had a moment to just sit and drool for 4 hours in a while. I've been trying so hard to consistently do something with my existence that I've kind of forgotten to give my brain levity. Not that I've been curing cancer for the past few weeks, but I haven't given time to just let myself be completely lazy.

As a result I've ended up fatigued in more ways than one, which resulted in the barely audible haystack that's rolling through this blog.

But look at me now. 4 hours of British people with aliens, and I'm rambling off trite metaphors like a 14-year-old poet. My life needs a little more lazy and a little less discipline.

Or maybe I'm wrong and my procrastination has become parasitic. Oh God.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

How Does You Blog?

The Bomber's Dozen will be back next weekend. Instead, here's some smug advice:

I've been around Blogger. Well, I had to be; if you own a blog, you're bound to have scoured the lands in search for ways to cyber flash your tits for cyber Mardi Gras beads.


The mediocrity I'll run into on Blogger though can be kind of annoying. Well, it's not so much mere mediocrity as it is the way there's a million of the same blogs over and over again. I'll (to my own disdain) avoid linking any particular blogs here, but holy shit, you don't know how often I've seen blogs with the header "The Story of..." or "My life..." or "The Ramblings of" or any dramatic lead-in.

Along with this is how below the novella header lies the same poop dollop of words verbally wreaking about how they woke up and found out Amy was happily pregnant and Zack had a lot of trouble in math class.

Such thrilling suburban adventures.

Now look, it's not to say that you can't write about your life. But rather, if you do, try to weave the writing to maximize its level of intrigue. A few months ago, in a post called "BEST BLOGS EVER!!", I'd complimented India Volkers' "but it turned out I hadn't" for doing just that. Again, here's an excerpt (...Of an excerpt) from that fantastic piece of blogging "Cheer Me Up":

"....the perfect opportunity to organise a nice coffee with an old friend, in which they inform you through a series of awkward unfinished sentences that you are essentially friend-dumped owing to the complexities of boy/girl friendships, the inextricability of past from present and a girlfriend who is 'NOT A PROBLEM'...The rest of the week has largely been passable in the South East, perhaps a five point five rising to a seven in places, but approached with a vaguely droll smile and shadowed by generally vast and looming exam-shaped shadows...."

I've read that over like 8 times and still find myself amazed by how she took an unoriginal conversation with her friend and her mundane day experiences and turned it into a literary gold chalice with a pimp drinking out of it.

A pinnacle in storytelling.

That post could've easily gone like this:

"Yesterday me and Jake were out and he sat me down. We had a nice coffee (it's so funny how we always have coffee) but he started telling me things about his girlfriend. It came out of nowhere! I was wondering where he was going with this and that's when he said that his girlfriend had been worried about me! I mean seriously! He swears that she's "not a problem" or whatever but guys, if an old friend does that, what would you think???

Yeah exactly!"

I wanna punch my taint for writing that.

In case you didn't know.

And I am, indeed, a unicorn.

Anyways, Volkers is the "DO" of this post. But instead of a hypothetical, here is a real and random "DON'T" from the Blogger universe:

"I didn't get to see Adam all morning. He worked overtime this morning and got off right as I was leaving for work. As I pulled up, one minute before my shift starts, I see Adam's car parked in the lot. He came to see me just for a quick hug and brought me a sweet tea. :] He sure does know how to make me feel special. Love.it. Love.him."

You know how thoughts are voiced by yourself in your brain? Mine just yelled "AAAUUUGGGHHHH". It hasn't stopped.

Instead of vaguely reacting to that slice of boring, here's exactly what's wrong with it:
  • No one really knows who Adam is.
  • She didn't preface the post with anything that would make us care about Adam.
  • Even if she did, the moment she's typing about has been in a movie a million times.
  • And finally, she wrote it at an 8th grade level.

Okay, maybe she established Adam in an earlier set of blogs. But what good is that to new readers? And even so, this isn't hooking them into reading earlier blogs about Adam.

Now I'm sure this girl is sweet and that Adam is just a lovely man, but to write about it so simply is to imply it is worth caring about, and nothing about it has been made worth caring about. Especially when you ended it like a tagline for "Eat. Pray. Love."

Love. It. Love. Him. Shoot. Self.

So what should you do to avoid this? For starters, if you're gonna post about your life, pick and choose the life situations you're going to blog about. Run it through your head and think, "If I were telling a stranger this story, would he just pity laugh the whole way through?".

Secondly, since you can't dramatically act out the scene on the Internet, try to write the moment in the most clever, descriptive and succinct way possible. For example, in my Barista blog, I give the Barista's obligations a sense of depth and intrigue as I quickly describe the principles of Starbucks and the intricacies of its drinks. This piques the reader's interest, and gives my chosen story a stronger mystique. Thus, making it worth posting.

Or as interesting as milk jizz and sugar can be.

Third, humor is your best friend. Even if you can't turn your daily life into Shakespeare, using humor can make your post overall more likable. It doesn't even have to be so witty; the fact that you have used humor shows that you are trying to make a friendly connection with the reader, as opposed to smugly implying we should care about your PMS drivel.

I shouldn't think "Always" when I'm reading.

Red Means Go does a great job at this, where she uses self-deprecation and witty drawings to humorously jacket her topics and stories. It's not the greatest piece of writing I've read on Blogger, but it's definitely the one with the most understanding and tactile use of humor.

Lastly, pictures are the greatest weapon any Blogger has. Utilizing pictures, be it pictures of yourself or pictures of other things, provides a visual element for the reader to be entertained by. The right pictures also give the blog post a sense of life, and accentuate the blog's message, allowing it to drive it in deeper than words can. Like how me and Ms. I Change My Name Like I'm A Repeatedly Rejected Dog use pictures of children often to counter the caustic sarcasm and keep things tongue-in-cheek.

And to remind them that we have candy in our van.

A great example of this, even though she doesn't actually write much in between, is the blog georgetown. She often takes pictures of her romps through life. Mere writing may make these experiences uninteresting and redundant. But the pictures provide an aura for her site and for herself, making it infinitely more interesting for the reader than it could've been.

So let's go through it again:

  1. People don't care about Adam.
  2. No seriously they don't.
  3. Use colorful and descriptive language. Makes it less boring.
  4. Try to be funny. Makes you likable.
  5. Always use pictures. Gives your writing life.

And remember, always add a heaping dose of your own personality. This is what will make your site unique. These guidelines provide a blueprint, but the architecture is up to you. So always try to be the most you that you can be when you blog.

Seriously. It's that simple.

And there you go, you (should) have a decent blog that stands out from the hundreds of "Story of My Special Vagina" blogs, and won't make me gossip about you in an elongated blog like a high school girl.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

The Cunning Farce of Reality TV: Kim Kardashian

Let's all get plastered: Take a shot for every variation of "whore", "cunt", "useless", and the like.

This title is great and all, but really, we're not here for sociological understanding. So just say it with me:

Reality TV is a piece of shit.

Feels good man.

So much time is given to meaningless whores (Literally and figuratively), who do meaningless things, and receive meaningless attention.

But the AIDS is forever.

It's the sociological equivalent to someone getting pulled over; poor asshole runs a stop sign, and I'm sure we've all been through this, but we'll all slow down drastically and stare at it anyway in the vain hope that something dramatic has happened.

One of the most amazing things about reality TV, though, is that it is the most blatant way to walk up to the American Dream and politely tell it to get the fuck out of your way.

Queue predictable Kim Kardashian picture.

These are the breasts of our demise.

All delicious hyperbole aside, let's break down Kimmy's illustrious career:

- 1980 to 2005: Obscure whore.

- 2006: Oh, neat, a TV show. Maybe she'll be an actress or ---

-2007: Release a sex tape with Brandy's eternally teenage brother Ray J, that totally wasn't intentionally released whatsoever nope. Especially when she sued Vivid Entertainment but it went down like this:

And it totally wasn't the reason why she was offered to pose nude for Playboy.

- 2008: Or to be a face model for a fashion line.

Or generate enough interest to make a reality TV show.

And be given various acting, film, and guest appearances.

...And her own workout DVD, called "Workout with Kim Kardashian". Great name, by the way.

Welcome to my new blog.

I don't know what more to write. Seriously; her Wikipedia page is incredibly small. My favorite part is that it lists her as a "celebutante". Which is a gentle way of saying she's a mutated spleen.

How does an existential splenectomy work?

To circle it back to the American Dream point (Because incessantly implying "slut" almost wrecked this blog's point), she reached a level of stardom that has made her ubiquitous with fame and success. Along with her development deals, Kim Kardashian constantly receives media and tabloid attention through her bajillion bikini shots and her undying lust for athletes.

Nice throw. Let's connect genitals.

Essentially, she has made it in America without any substantial or credible effort on her part. Fortune, fame, adoration, attention; found through the quick insertion of a mediocre pop star's fleshy tube and the ambitious lenses of a digital camera. How is that possible? And more importantly, why did we encourage this?

Alright enough with the intellectual bullshit; she's famous for being a dickpocket, and I'm pissed.

Yes dickpocket counts. Take the shot.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Best Movie Night Ever II: The Review

(There's a few minor spoilers in here; no key plot elements, but I do give away a bit of the movie's one-of-a-kind style. You may want to see it without my coloring.)

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is fantastic for a variety of reasons.

Or just because Mary Elizabeth Winstead is sexy douchebag.

Firstly, Micheal Cera and the rest of the ensemble is perfectly casted. No one seemed out of place, and the personality of the characters perfectly reflected the looks and actions of the actors. Cera does a fantastic job as the cool yet nervous dork Scott Pilgrim, delivering his quick-witted lines and hilariously deadpan faces wonderfully, as does Pilgrim's love interest, Ramona Flowers.

The contrast between them is perfect.

The movie's pace is incredibly fast, with seamless scene transitions that are almost dizzying, as some start with Cera's face in one background, and instantly changing to another. It's way of cutting from scene to scene was refreshing, as it never used the same transition twice, and did so with complete understanding of how to apply certain cuts to enhance the humor.

The storyline, while in retrospect a little bland, was perfectly exploded to ridiculous proportions, so you'd forget the story is as simple as one kid fighting seven people for one girl while being in a band (Which, by the way, made great music that I have to find). Not to mention the movie is smartly self-effacing.

Also, no one has ever actually thought to apply video game aesthetics onto a movie before, and to see it done on this huge screen is like Mountain Dew for my sugar-starved eyes. The flashes of points as enemies evaporated into coins, the comic book onomatopoeias ("RRRrrrring"), and the cartoon-esque moments (Such as in one scene when Cera leaps through a house window to escape a girl) were things movies, the ones I've seen anyway, never executed so well before. This makes Pilgrim not only a refreshing movie, but quite possibly the most unique movie I'd ever laid eyes on.

If you hate this, please e-mail me so I can berate you.

And of course, the fight scenes were lovingly over-the-top. My favorite was actually Ramona's fight scene.

This is completely absurd. I love it.

But the battle against the Vegan gets the nod for the most ridiculous. It exemplified the movie's self-awareness, as it subtlety breaks the fourth wall and makes fun of pop culture stereotypes, all the while providing visuals (Dr. Manhattan much) and moments (I mean seriously....a bass guitar battle in a movie? Fantastic.) simply never fathomed.

And, on a side note, the in-movie music is actually pretty good on its own. It's worth watching just for the few "Sex Bombomb", Scott Pilgrim's band, songs.

All in all, Scott Pilgrim is probably my favorite movie of all-time, and quite likely culminated what was easily the best at-the-theater experience I've ever had. It had the sights, the sounds, the humor, and the intelligence, with little left to be desired. I couldn't ask for anything more from this movie or that night. Best movie night ever.

Best Movie Night Ever I: The Crowd.

Bomber's Dozen's off this weekend. Instead, here's this awesomeness:

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is fucking fantastic.

But did you need me to say that?

Yes, because it totally was.

It first caught my eye when its trailer popped up before "Get Him to the Greek". Though the music-based premise and video game visuals intrigued me, what really caught me was Be Your Own Pet's "Black Hole" playing in the background.

I knew I had to watch this movie right at that moment.

Fast forward to Friday, 12 AM, and there I was, AMC theaters, walking towards the screen. But I had no idea how much more awesome the night was gonna be, beyond the movie itself.

Me and my friend found our seats 4 rows down from the very top. I kept iterating to him that the crowd tonight was different; it wasn't a bunch of Puerto Ricans trying to be as sexy as possible, or a bunch of white girls trying to be as Peurto Rican possible, it was just nerds. Scott Pilgrim fans, comic book dorks, and everything in between. The buzz coming from them was fantastic; the theater was a lit with chatter about various dorky topics.

To drive the nerd point home, someone next to us actually pulled out an iPad and starting surfing the Internet on it. Seriously. I think he pulled it out of his pocket Looney Tunes-style.

But the crowd wasn't done impressing me. Me and my friend, Chris, were waiting on someone else and his girlfriend. He asked me if I wanted to partake in yelling his name out when he entered the theater. I was nervous, but I could never pass up such a silly opportunity.

And thank God I didn't.

The moment we saw him enter, I signaled the friend next to me and we aptly got up and yelled his name at the top of our lungs. This was followed by some people to the left of us yelling "HEY YEAH IT'S THAT GUY" in a sarcastically affable way, and then, after a few cheers from me and my friend, we led the entire move theater crowd in applauding and cheering my friend's entrance.

It was the greatest thing ever.

The crowd's concert-like atmosphere continued during the trailers, in which we openly "WOO"ed as they started. My favorite part though was when M. Night Shamaylan's "Devil" trailer came up. The crowd was a bit quiet, seemingly interested. But they didn't know M. Night was the director, which me and my friends did.

The moment his name flashed on screen, my friends and I yelled a timely "AWWWWWWWWWWWGHHHH" followed by the crowd booing and complaining about "The Last Airbender", which indeed is a terrible movie.

I made few yells about how God is so much better than the Devil, and after the crowd's laughter, I immediately expressed to them my appreciation by yelling "I love you guys" and "YAY CROWD".

Best movie crowd ever.

But of course, we were all here for one movie. And it's easily the best movie I'd seen all year...

Thursday, August 12, 2010

The Tales of a (Budding) Barista

I remember writing the Starbucks Ramblings with a vague adoration for the store. I think everyone kind of experiences this little bit of intimacy with the place that satiates their caffeine addiction like an enabling girlfriend.

But I never once thought (Hoped, but, not thought), that I would don the green apron and affably yell what sounds like discontinued M&M flavors.

Yes, I serve food now.

I have handed my 2 weeks notice in to CVS, and have begun my transition to being the world renowned (Or quietly-despised) Starbucks barista.

I've so far gone through 4 days of training. The first day was physically underwhelming but mentally uplifting; it consisted mostly of my shock that SB's mission statement is kind of an exact shadow of my own. Howard Schultz's (CEO of Starbucks) quote comes to mind here:

"We’re in the people business serving coffee, not the coffee business serving people."

It's pretty much every I've ever asked for. Or maybe it's just CEO PC garbage.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up.

Still, it's likable.

Day two was simple. And by simple, I mean holy shit, tedious recipe memorization makes my frontal lobe ache.

Starbucks' core, ironically, is not in its actual coffee, but its lovely peripheral drinks. These involve lattes, teas, their iced counterparts, cappuccinos, frappuccinos, and smoothies, plus the variety of customized options, such as the shots of espresso, pumps of syrups, particular flavors of said syrup, the type of milk, inclusion/exclusion of whip cream and the amount of ice, where applicable.

No, I'm not a robot.

They haven't turned the chip on.

I've spent the last two days or so learning and practicing these recipes, on occasion being mobbed by uppity white customers out of nowhere and being forced to kick my speed into high gear. This happens a lot in this Starbucks; a lull often turns into two whites chicks terribly arguing over caramel macchiatos.

None of that was an exaggeration.

When I was handing off my very first caramel macchiato, the chick who very promptly grabbed it was immediately interrupted by some other chick. My trainer, who's an incredibly youthful and dedicated girl, immediately tried to settle it by saying "The next one's coming right up." She needed to say it twice, me joining in harmony the second time, because the two were passive aggressively debating who was first in line.

The lesson here is that you don't fuck with a white girl's caramel macchiato.

Or patience.

But really don't fuck with their shit.

Anyway, since then I've just been destroying frappuccinos with my legendarily terrible whip cream applications.

Seriously, Ghandi would hand my shit back.

But I've started memorizing the recipes and the basics have started entrenching themselves in my brain. Soon I'll start branding my personality onto the job. Which just means drawing dicks in the syrup boxes

I would just kinda sit around all day...and draw pictures of dicks.

The store and the atmosphere is an absolute 180 from CVS, with its undying obsession to customer service, and customers who are actually willing to reciprocate (SOME OF THEM REMEMBER MY NAME! PEOPLE ARE SO NICE!), and a pace like a 4 way intersection with traffic lights that change every 5 seconds.

Plus, the radio plays "Lazy Eye" by Silversun Pickups from time to time. Yes, the song is 2 minutes longer than it should be, but fuck me is that a massive improvement over whatever heartbreak Leona Lewis is throating again.

I'm pretty in love with Starbucks. And not just because Starbucks gives me free drinks. But because they stand for friendship, community, and best of all, humanity. And my first four days on the job has already proven that in a variety of ways, be it through the memorable and receptive customers, or through my dedicated co-workers.

Okay, mostly because they give me free drinks.

Okay, only because they give me free drinks.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Special Number 13.

Or my prelude to homeless ranting.

So the Pentagon has finally made a statement that they will assassinate diplomatically assert themselves onto Wikileaks to cover up for its recent leak of 76,000 Afghanistan War files.

The internet-savvy are quite aware of Wikileaks, but in case Blogger's #1 demographic, cute white girls, aren't so aware, here is my brief summary of what Wikileaks is/does:

Wikileaks is a website site that discloses classified government files that it so deems necessary for the world to know. It leaks these files through anonymous sources. They are incredibly integral to our understanding of government and politics, since it opens doors to information we, the public, weren't supposed to know.

Wikileaks' claim to fame, however, is a video called "Collateral Murder", which is footage from a helicopter of the US adamantly attacking visibly unarmed Iraqi civilians.

In short, Wikileaks is easily one of the most globally relevant sites on the Internet, and is a symbol for political transparency across the world.

So let's get back to the Pentagon, who've made a "Hey bro what the fuck" motion with this "compel" statement.

This push marks the first time the Pentagon have openly declared a discontent with Wikileaks' action (Besides secretively bitching about it in more files Wikileaks discovered). If Julian Assange, the site's founder and owner, is irked by this, his solace would lie in Iceland, who have openly sworn to protecting him and his type of service.

You may now take Iceland out of your pocket.

If Wikileaks discloses information that is substantial enough, which the Afghanistan files were quite close to being, the Pentagon and/or any other government involved with the leak may feel the need to assert themselves onto Wikileaks in spite of Iceland's safeguard.

And so begins the catfight.

Both sides would feel violated, be it the aggressors, having lost their government privacy, or Iceland, having been furtively (or otherwise) invaded. This could easily end in a diplomatic resolution in which the U.N., as Iceland nervously yells "HOLD ME BACK MAN!", holds them back.

Or it could divide the world on the logistics of government transparency and net neutrality.

Some would protect Iceland. Others, mostly those having been exposed by Julian Assange, may fight alongside the US, but in a fashion more or less similar to the union between Germany and Russia during the WWII era.

Meanwhile, some factions defending Iceland may do so solely to war against the US, which furthers the intricacies of the social-political relationships occurring in this fanciful struggle.

The US may also shutdown the Internet in the midst of the Assange-bonanza (Which would be the only way they could thoroughly rid of any files leaking to the American public). This would lead to a major, perhaps revolutionary, backlash amongst the American public. And thus, WWIII begins, and the world hits the eject button to blow the dust from its cartridge.

During this ridiculous dissertation, you've just learned that I'm kind of a war nerd. And that you give a rapidly declining shit about it. So I'll just top this off with something important:

Wikileaks is quite possibly the most important website on the Internet. What Assange's site offers is completely unique, and substantial to our understanding of world politics. Keep up with its material. And be prepared to defend it. Because while it may not lead to WWIII, it damn sure is worth fighting for.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

The Bomber's Dozen August 1st-August 7th: The Fiery 7

The Tasty 6.

7. Morrissey knows what's important.

Imagine; you have a piece of paper, a pen, and the influential voice to rightfully express your political/social concerns. Your words will be formed to persuade the Queen. What is your concern?

Dear Queen of England...

To whom music/news may concern, if it does at all over there,

I can't parody you as well as yourself. Please stop.

Or continue. For me.

But for your sake, stop.

EPA clearly has a legitimate and relevant agenda, as dust is also a serious issue in our deserts and warehouses, and has recently infiltrated our homes in the form tiny balls between our furniture.

It must be stopped.

In a second letter released by the EPA, it states they will be sending a team of 5 men to combat clouds of dust across America with a high-tech vacuum whilst Ray Parker Jr. plays in the background.

10. Ya don't say?

"Where you're famous, doctors will kiss your ass because they love the celebrity," he said. "'Oh, I can call up Eminem and get him on the phone right now. Oh, hi Marshall, how are you doing? Do you need that [prescription]?' There are doctors that will give you certain things just because of who you are."

She thinks you're late.

As much as I appreciate any artist tearing a shitty crowd apart, doing it to NY hipsters is like suffocating a fire with a flamethrower. Jack White's dignified their Israeli scarves and that fucking out of place facial hair they always seem to have.

Of course there's a picture.

This is an absolute travesty. The only clever pop songwriter in the world has been impregnated by some savage man who clearly has no right, like I do, to do such a thing to Allen.

He is a monstrous brute.

It's strange that the media is obsessed with bellies filled with ever-mutating cellular clusterfucks.

Some people call them babies.

If only because after it does its last swing from the umbilical cord, it's as though the baby were dropped into a figurative abyss and the media moves along to the next impregnated stomach.

Like, whatever happened to Tom Cruise's baby? She was a frenzy 4 years ago.

Bet you didn't know she looks like this now.

After some deliberation (Which for me is 3 seconds of "Eh why not"), I've decided this week's 13 will be a separate post, which will be up later tonight. See ya then.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

The Bomber's Dozen August 1st-August 7th: The Tasty 6

1. Lionel Messi asks "What's the story, morning glory?"

Further proving the idea that Argentinians love Oasis, one that I did not perpetuate just now, Lionel Messi wants to gather some guys for an Oasis cover band.

'Our disguise is based on how Oasis looked in the mid-'90s,' he told the paper. 'We have our wigs, clothes and glasses sorted. I also spent a lot of time getting the mannerisms right.'

And buying the right booster seat.

Definitely not two cultures you would've expected to intersect, but if you knew anything about Argentinians like I so vastly do, you'd know, their passion for Oasis is undying, and that I am not lying about this or quietly hoping you spread this.

"If heavy metal bands ruled the world we'd be a lot better off. There would be more a lot more drinking and a lot more shagging and nursery rhymes would sound like this."
And if that mocking bird don't sing, 6,6,6 is the number of the beast.

I can't wait for my inevitable "Proud Parent of a Drinking Shagger" bumper sticker. Thanks, Bruce Dickinson!

He wants to make an instrumental based on our solar system:

"An instrumental album is something I've been wanting to do for a long time," Dr. Dre told Vibe.com. "I have the ideas for it. I want to call it 'The Planets'. I don't even know if I should be saying this, but fuck it. It's just my interpretation of what each planet sounds like."

I actually think this is pretty neat. Albeit goofy.

On a related note, Gustav Holst is conducting "The Chronic".

Also his reluctance to spill the details ("I don't even know if I should be saying this") is understandable.

I doubt they're fans of celestial bodies.

Sheryl Crow a.k.a. "Who is she again" says her music is:

'...so good I could strip to it. And I'm 48.'

But can Alex rape to it?

I'm siiiiinnnggggginnn' in the raaaiinn....

My favorite piece of that quote is "And I'm 48." Because being 48 normally implies that you are lawfully barred from undressing. Sheryl Crow; pioneer of women's strippage.

And everyone wondered how this could've possibly worked.

No seriously how.

After pranking Akon's presumptuously deaf manager Scooter, Bieber obnoxiously confirmed to the world, which was clearly on pins and needles, that he is such a card:

''R u Kidding of course I do!! I prank everyone!! No 1 is safe :)''

bieber ur so gr8 i hop u fall on a nife LMAO

Someone sprayed some lady with semen blablacontextcontext QUEUE THE PORNOGRAPHY RIFFS!:

He then dropped her off in South L.A. and gave her 200 dollars.

Claims to have been frequent victim

Unedited footage of incident can be found here.

Randy Spears was later acquitted of all charges.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

From the cookie jar

Here's an old classic of C'n'L.

Haha, you're old as hell.

Munky's "things that should go away immediately":


1. girls who try soooo hard to be "one of the guys." no. you're not. you have a vagina. i'm sorry. and those guys you are so proud of hanging out with, the ones you're referring to the countless times you proudly declare "i don't have girl friends. i hang out with all guys. they're just easier"---those guys; they don't think you're cool or funny or different from other girls. they really dont care. you're just a backup f*** in case there's no one else available.

2. people on the bus/train who hold loud conversations just so everyone can hear how witty and clever they are. seriously. no one thinks your constant use of phrases like "Epic Fail" and "FML" are clever. they just want to throw you into oncoming traffic.

3. people who sigh dramatically loud in public to garner sympathy or attention. nobody cares. go away.

4. The "Twilight" kids.

5. that really depressing guy on BBC news this morning. when i first wake up in the morning i dont wanna hear things like "Will Obama's string of victories continue, or will the sheer weight of the American political system send him crashing back down to earth?" actually....that was pretty funny. he can stay.

6. guys who seem to be incapable of pulling off a hoody over their heads without having their shirt underneath lift up to the point where we can all see your nipples. STOP THAT! its not sexy. you just end up looking like an inept chimp, all tangled in masses of fabric with no way out.

7. girls who are pms-ing and decide to write angry blogs to exercise themselves of all the malicious energy. *cough cough*

8. the use of *cough cough*

9. girls who buy clothes that are outrageously smaller than what their actual size is, and then have to constantly adjust themselves; pulling and tucking things in and stretching the fabric. why are you torturing that poor shirt? its not its fault you're a trollop. BUY YOUR OWN SIZE and leave the smalls and mediums for us girls that are actually small and medium! im tired of swimming in your rejected larges and XXL's.

10. the term "sexting." people over 40 think they're so clever when they throw that word around. you can see it in their eyes. that old person pride. F*** you Doctor Phil.

11. That formspring thing on Facebook. as if facebook and twitter and blogs werent enough for our attention starved generation. its not enough that random people can follow your life through your incessant posting of your every jamba juice run and bowel movement? you need to add to that an open forum? we get it. you exist, now shut up already.

more to come. maybe

Sunday, August 1, 2010

The Bomber's Dozen July 26th-31st: The Fiery Seven

Now with number 13!

Exhaling the last breath of her reputation.

The very last puff.

This is like if Pete Doughtery hung out and dated Kate Moss, except that would never happen.

Which I don't understand. You become the face of a band who's one of the most beloved acts of our generation. And by association, you become a near mythical indie-rock icon.

And you sue?

You go from preppy white bitch #643 to psuedo-rockstar and your response is "I DO NOT LIKE"?!

Because seriously, your name is Kristen Kennis.

Her name is Kristen Kennis.

You were supposed to die in that Ralph Lauren polo, accompanied by a white frilly skirt and K-Swiss sneakers, all sponsored by your father's trust fund, based in South Hampton, NY. Be happy you've been de-stereotyped, stupid.



Not that I needed this article to prove that.

This'll do.

I'm not sure at what point he felt compelled to take a douche mushroom, make a few douche bleeps, and super douche over koopas.

Annnd our first Mario reference.

Listen to him; he's saying shit like "[His new band] Beady Eye will be bigger than Oasis", and:

"We have this tune and it was a bit Rolling Stonesy, and I didn't like it," he said of the recording sessions for the group's debut album, which is due out next year. "It was slow and boring. So we just got on a piano and fuck it up, Jerry Lee style, and stuck a John Lennon vocal on the top. It's good."

I can feel the vomit tapping my throat.

But let's ignore all this scrumptious irony.


And focus on Zac's quote in the second article:

''I'm not really the type of guy that does that kind of thing often. I've heard a lot about these places, mostly from rap music. It was supposed to be pretty reputable. I envisioned myself sitting on a nice couch, shades on, with T-Pain and Usher, making it rain money - and it just wasn't like that."

Let it sink in. Try not to write a blog about it.

This is a contentious issue.

Need proof? How about googling "Pigeon shit" links to four first page articles on the KoL story, and even includes press photos of the band in the images section.

In other words, they've become synonymous. Kings of Leon and "Pigeon shit" are one in the same. And so they should be.

If people have paid in advance, they clearly appreciate your band and anticipate your performance. To walk out on them because little splotches of bird shit dabbles your recently moussed hair is to walk out on those who so dearly wanted to embrace your creativity.

Way to go, Kings of Leon. You're officially....


On my shitlist.

Thursday etc. etc.

Feel free to unfollow this blog.

The classy SB1070 (Which sounds like a Megaman prototype) law went into effect this past Thursday. I was eagerly awaiting social catastrophe when suddenly, a judge cockblocked the law's racially divisive intercourse:

"We believe the court ruled correctly when it prevented key provisions of SB1070 from taking effect. While we understand the frustration of Arizonans with the broken immigration system, a patchwork of state and local policies would seriously disrupt federal immigration enforcement and would ultimately be counterproductive."

The c-blocked sections of the law that guaranteed molotov cocktails and window smashings were the following:

  • Immigrants must carry their papers at all times or risk detainment
  • Illegal immigrants cannot solicit employment in public places
  • My favorite, officers can, without warrant, arrest suspected illegal immigrants for crimes that may lead to deportation
Mmm, vagueness in law. Nothing better than the word "suspected", which is to literally make an intuitive judgment, being used to determine how an officer arrests someone.

Because let's be honest, Arizona is siphoning Mexicans like a kid sucking down a tube of mini M&Ms. The suspected are not going to be Americans. They're not going to be Asian-Americans. They're not going to be African-Americans. They're going to be Mr. Rodrigo mowing your lawn. Sweet Juan Pablo who does your landscaping. They're going to be Hispanic people.

Thus, inciting general racial profiling. This could've only meant social suicide for the relationship between whites and hispanics, which is already degrading as it is.

But it was blocked.

And to be honest, I wish it wasn't. The US needs direct conflict again. We need to settle our differences openly, and quite possibly, violently, before anything gets better again. all this passive discussion on cable TV, all this vague political debate, which is solely jargon to get people voted, progresses about as quickly as a glacier. I honestly think we need something to impassion this nation again, and SB1070 was about the closest thing to doing so.

And while SB1070 was a steaming pot of passive racism, at the very least, it gave us (As in, Hispanic people) something to fight for, other than that ridiculous "American Dream" notion. Whatever that means.

Now we'll just strap on those yellow latex gloves again, as the smell of Windex and Clorox fumigates our passive noses. I wonder what's on Univision tonight?