Saturday, June 27, 2009

Seven Years

Also is a good David Bowie song. (I think it's a David Bowie song, I think it's a ... song ... )

However, today marks the seventh anniversary of the passing of the world's greatest bassist. R.I.P. John Entwistle.

~musicalsparks

To Be a Bicycle Seat

I wrote a poem yesterday while I was in Freiburg, sitting at a bar and watching students go by. I think it's a pretty funny poem.

To be a bicycle seat.
That sure would be neat.
To stay warm between your thighs
As you exercise.

Sweat that trickles makes me groan.
Proof that you love what you own.
Sadly your work during the day
Will with nights rain be washed away

Never sit up and give me air.
I'd rather that you just sat there
As I'm slowly smothered to death,
Taking you in with my last breath.

Friday, June 26, 2009

TV Shows That Should Be Banned

This is only the beginning...

  1. Desperate Housewives
  2. Grey's Anatomy
  3. Army Wives
  4. Sex and the City (or is it Sex in the City?)
  5. And any other show that's angsty, and about people who irritate me.

Recently, some more shows that are actually pretty good...

  1. Wipeout. So hilarious, seriously. I mean it's beyond funny.
  2. Deadliest Catch. I think I covered this.
  3. Untold Stories of the ER, and all the other shows that are like that. I watched that for a half a day not too long ago.
  4. Snapped, Serial... , and other shows that are like that. I watched those for the other half of that day not too long ago.
  5. Judge Judy, The Steve Wilkos Show. I think I've already hailed Judge Judy, however! Steve Wilkos is the total, supreme version of awesomeness. If everyone had a dad like Steve Wilkos, the entire country would be so much better off. He loves his family fiercely and at the same time, he's not an ass. All hail Steve Wilkos.
  6. The Guardian. I love Simon Baker now, he's a badass on that show. *pause* Yup, he's definitely a badass, and he's cute.

~musicalsparks

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

A record

I've had "Wanted: Dead or Alive" stuck in my head for a good, solid week now. Yeah.

~musicalsparks

Monday, June 15, 2009

My dog eats worms

Yeah. She goes out onto the patio in the afternoon and finds all the worms that have died during the night and dried up on the patio. Then she literally scampers around, scarfing them up. If you point one out to her with your foot, she makes a beeline for you and snarfles that up too. It's pretty hysterical to watch. She's the biggest pest ever but she's really funny. Actually when she was doing it today, she snarfled one up too quickly, choked and coughed a piece of a worm up.

I really have a twisted sense of humor. Heh....


~musicalsparks

Saturday, June 13, 2009

I ...

really need to stop eating these chocolate rocks that I have as leftover graduation party favors. I am baffled that I don't weigh more than I do. Actually when I was in the doctor's office back in February, they said that over the past year I had somehow managed to lose 12 pounds. This of course threw my mother into a panic when I told her (bad bad move) because she thought I was sick, even though my doctor, who's the best in his field, told me it was just stress.

It's by no fault of mine, no conscious fault, that I've lost weight. I'm not trying to actively lose weight. Knowing me, I probably actually weigh 12 pounds more and the extra weight is just sitting somewhere in my room. As in I literally lost some weight. Heh.

And I just consulted a weight/height chart and a BMI chart and they're all saying I'm an ideal weight. So I'm set, to rule the world.

~musicalsparks

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Oink

Seriously, I don't want to hear about the swine flu anymore. It's apparently a pandemic now, which is ridiculous. It's the flu. I know people have died from it, but that's just the cosmos saying stay the hell out of Mexico. Do. Not. Go. To. Mexico. Who wants to go there anyhow? I mean I guess there's Cancun and everything, but there are other islands that are less parasite ridden. Wonder why it's called swine flu anyhow. I'm sure a simple search on the internet would give me this answer but eh.

Deadliest Catch is an amazing show. I think that instead of sending bratty kids to jail to scare them, they should go on one of the fishing boats on that show. They should go on the Northwestern, becuase not only is Sig awesome, but he's also a taskmaster. I mean, the bratty kids get scared for maybe a few hours in jail. On the Northwestern, Sig would have them fishing in scary as hell weather, with huge killer icy waves coming up, as it snows and there are high winds, in the middle of the Bering Sea. For 48 hours. All the while there are lots of angry men screaming at you constantly, not to hurt the huge crabs that are pinching you. Woe to the person who kills one of those crabs. And also, Sig is Norwegian and there's a tradition, where, for good luck, someone has to bite the head off of some fish, and eat the innards. And fishermen are the most superstitious lot, so the bratty kids would be forced to do that too. I wouldn't stand in the way of these half-crazed men and their very hard-earned money. And they do this for weeks on end. That would humble the little brats. "Oh I hate my mommy cos she cares for me. Mommy lets me do anything I want, and I don't care if I hurt her feelings." On Sig's ship they'd beg for mommy, every day. And then the crew would grind said brat down. It would be amazing, and prove that there is at least a little bit of justice in this world for me, that I can sit down and watch some obnoxious brat break down and sob. Heh.


Edit: check it out http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vLPQUAZIdk
Who's laughing now, brats?
~musicalsparks

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Last Night...

I forgot about this till now. It's been a really strange day for me. Anyhow.

I had the weirdest dream last night. I was at some baseball game, that was inside, and the diamond was really small, and very closely surrounded by people on all sides, and the stadium was just beyond them, so it was very enclosed. Except the baseball diamond itself was pretty clear. Then, someone was handing me the bat, and telling me I had to go up and take a crack at it. Of course, I know close to zero about baseball, except you have to hit the ball and run around. And you must never hit the ball so that it goes straight up or to the side or something. I guess I do know a bit. So I was nervous, and everyone started cheering madly when I got up there, like I was some huge star. And I remember feeling exhilarated. And I think I swumg and made a home run but I never remember running cos I think you weren't supposed to in my dream. Weird...

~musicalsparks

Monday, June 1, 2009

Never

In lieu of the AirFrance tragedy, I have decided, probably rather irrationally, that I'm never going overseas. No way. That is my worst fear realized.

I shudder at the thought of flying over an entire ocean (which I've learned all about in my Geology classes) in an airplane. My worst fear is actually not crashing and dying in the crash. I'd rather die in the crash, if, God forbid, that happened.

MY worst fears are actually two: one, actually being trapped, alive, in the airplane as it sinks to the bottom of a vast ocean, and eventually drowning. At the bottom of the ocean. My other fear is surviving and dying via sharks. There's no way in hell. There's nobody I want to see that bad that I'd cross oceans for. And there's not a snowball's chance that you could get me on a ship to cross the ocean. If a ship sinks, there's more of a chance for me to survive it and die a nasty death e.g. sharkbait, dehydration/starvation, drowning, before anyone found me. I'd panic at the thought of being alone, out in the middle of nowhere, on a fucking ocean.

I understand being lost on the land -- at least you can walk about and not get eaten by sharks. And generally people can search for you easier than they can search for you on the ocean. I mean, there's a hell of a lot of water on this earth, most of it in the ocean. 75% of the earth is ocean. And you can get stuff to survive on land. Seriously, I'd panic immensely and probably die of a heart attack if I got stranded on the ocean. And that's assuming I wasn't thinking about how fucking deep it is. I'm sitting on top of a few miles of water. Fuck no.

I was actually considering flying overseas at some point with my future husband. Now, there's no fucking way I'm crossing an ocean. Maybe I'd fly to some of those islands below Florida like the Bahamas or maybe to Greenland. But no way will I traverse an ocean. No fucking way.

~musicalsparks

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Yeah so

I'm still mad. This is because the beatles are still around, and they enrage me with their continued existence. I also know that after the last two die, their stuff will keep on being re-released and re-re-re-re-re-released. Ad infinitum.

And I also had the misfortune of meeting people who also enraged me yesterday. The instant I met these people, I knew they were going to make me mad, somehow. Sure enough they did. I won't repeat what they were saying, as it was incredibly ridiculous and not a little racist. And also, of course, they were very snotty, like "well we're from place X, and our kid went to school X, therefore we're special and better than everyone else on the entire planet."

I guess it's a good thing for them that money buys real allies, respect, an intelligent, well-mannered and well-adjusted kid and common sense. Oh, wait...

People like that always fail to impress me.

~musicalsparks

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

A New Gripe

I have a new gripe with Germans. To be fair, this is not so much a gripe with Germans as it is with yuppie mothers. To be even fairer, this is not so much a gripe with yuppie mothers as it is a gripe with one particular yuppie mother who walks up and down our street, praying to Xenu. Or something.

Have you ever seen a baby on an operating table? It is truly a tragic image. It juxtaposes the innocence and symbolism of life that is newborn baby with the bleakness and sterility of an operating room. It is pretty much an image that universally invokes sadness and a sense of loss or helplessness in seeing what is in its essence humankind's future undergoing the uncertainty that should be spared this cherished and lovable creature.

Now imagine that you could invoke those exact feelings in yourself and in everyone around you wherever you go!

That's right. I'm talking about baby carriages that look like operating tables. Yes, they exist. Don't pretend that they don't. I know they exist. I've seen at least two.

The first time I saw one, I couldn't help but stare. There was a mother pushing her baby child on what can only be described as a Star Trek crash cart. The infant child lay naked and uncertain of itself under a bright, white light as its mother, who was wearing all white, pushed the cart and stared expressionlessly into the baby's frightened face.

Okay, I'm exaggerating just a little. But that is exactly the image I had in my mind as the yuppie mother walked by.

Now, the way I see it, there are only three reasons a mother would push her baby around on a futuristic crash cart.

(1) She is expecting the baby to have heart failure at any minute, and this is a rather keen way to avoid wasting time as the paramedics transfer her baby from a normal carriage to a real crash cart.

To me, this first scenario is the least likely scenario. And that's because, as everyone knows, mothers don't actually like their children. Quite the opposite. What with changing diapers constantly, the whining, waking you up in the middle of the night, preventing you from having a proper sex life with multiple partners, and not to mention the boogers and snot and whatnot, you mothers really hate your children. So that's why, when you're pushing your mewling cabbages around in your fancy carts, you are constantly thinking of ways to push the cart in front of oncoming traffic and make it look like an accident. What you don't realize is that men also hate babies, and if you did it the rest humankind would congratulate you for your contribution to population control. Given this hard and undeniable fact about mothers, I very much doubt that this particular mother has thought ahead so much in order to save her child from possible heart complications. Indeed, with the carelessness of most mothers, I'm surprised children make it to the age of three.

(2) The second reason is Scientology. I am going to be very honest here, and say that I don't really know much about Scientology. I am also going to go out on a limb, and say that you probably don't know much about Scientology, either. As with most things, however, you and I probably know enough about Scientology to be able to make fun of it. So the crash cart from space is probably actually an Alter of Scientology. You see, only an all-American religion like Scientology would have a mobile alter, because America is the land of mobility. It could be that this particular yuppie mother pushes her baby around on an alter on the off chance that the world will come to an end, and she wants to be ready to sacrifice her own flesh and blood child so that her soul will be spared in the Great Purging (does Scientology have a Great Purging? Answer: ALL religions have a Great Purging).

Now this scenario is only slightly more likely that the first one. I actually can't imagine, after reading three or four paragraphs on Wikipedia, that any Scientologists are intelligent enough to think that far ahead.

(3) The third reason is by far the most likely of the three. I'm basically just revisiting the first scenario, but turning it on its head. You see, mothers really do loathe their children. However, because mothers are under the impression that the law would intervene if they outright killed their children, some mothers must resort to emotional scarring as a means of relieving their hatred and loathing. (As a note of seriousness, emotional scarring is NOT a crime in the industrialized nations. It should be. You may be thinking that we have laws to prevent abuse. No we don't. If we did, parents would not be allowed to tell their children that they will go to hell unless they do what their parents say. Religion would have been eradicated within a generation of the passing of such a law, trust me. Just look at all of the disorders and neurosis, and tell me that many parents don't practice emotional scarring as part of their daily routine). So what did this mother do? She put her kid on an operating table. How does this scar the kid? Well, for one, it will make the kid always feel comfortable on an operating table. Aside from developing a morbid affinity for operating rooms, the kid will probably become a hypochondriac as an adult. The crash cart carriage also has the effect of making perfect strangers look down at the child with the sense of sadness and helplessness, as discussed above, present in their facial expressions. The kid will only know those two emotions, and will come to expect nothing else from perfect strangers for the rest of its long, miserable life.

Happy belated Mother's Day, Mom!

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Monday, May 18, 2009

Survival

I'm just wondering how I'm going to live through the rest of spring and all of summer without my sinuses and their related allergies and sinus infections making my head break open. And why is it cold outside? Cold and polleny, that's so ridiculous.

~musicalsparks

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

This Should Never Happen

The following is an account of one of the greater evils in a man's everyday life. Very few men would be willing to admit this happened. However, it is funny, and this is a comic website. What has happened has since found itself near the top of the list of reasons that there is not just, kind and loving god. It is, in fact, proof that we live in the bowels of a cruel, human-loathing divine personification of a leach that feeds off of misery and chaos.

Let me begin by describing my bowel movements. My turds are large. Very large. I basically don't poop until my body produces something the size of a toddler. I take this as the reason that I am such a contented person. Like most men, the magnitude and duration of my satisfaction and contentment is directly proportional to the mass and volume of my stool. I am a very happy person.

And then I came to Germany, the land of demonic toilets. On the North American continent I had been deceived. I had been led to believe that, whatever the design and make, the basic shape of a toilet was universal. This is because, when all is said and done, the toilet has one function, and one function alone: to dispose of human bodily waste. The Romans knew that the most effective way to get rid of waste is with water. The inventor of the toilet knew this as well, and hence our toilets are designed such that the waste falls directly into water and awaits to be flushed away. It is the universality and common sense practicality of this feature that makes us so satisfied to hear the plopping sound of a good deed being done.

But no, that's too good for the Germans. The Germans excel at all things swine. They drive like swine, they eat like swine, and if swine could speak, they would speak German. This even extends to their hygienic habits. So, when the German inventor looked at the toilet for the first time, marking the gentle balance of form and function that, like many household objects, had slowly evolved over the centuries into a practical, and dare I say, elegant creation, he thought to himself, "How can I make this suck?"

The subtle change that he implemented is so simple that it could be called beautiful, if the resulting creation was not, indeed, an abomination. Six inches. It took only six inches to destroy one of the greatest inventions mankind has ever seen. The hole, through which shit and piss must pass, was moved six inches forward to the front of the bowl. Taking its place is a shallow, porcelain shelf.

I am willing to give the Germans the benefit of the doubt and assume that the design is meant to save water. It is a noble goal--and it fails miserably. It fails for two reasons. The first is that one must flush the Teutonic toilet after every use. I can hear them now, "Eww! Gross! You don't flush after every use?" No, I do not, and for the conscientious among us not flushing after every use is a good habit to get into. It saves water. No one needs to flush after every use, unless you are a racehorse. And, no, the toilet doesn't need to begin to smell for one to save water.

But saving water is impossible with the German abominable snow-toilet. That little shelf of porcelain means that one's pee is not mixed with a few cups of water, and therefore diluted. If you never knew, pee begins to smell when it reacts with the air and changes its chemical composition. Water means that the pee reacts more slowly, and the pee takes longer to smell. But the Teutonic toilet shelf means that your pee is left in a shallow puddle at near to full concentration. The shallowness and lack of water means that your pee has a greater surface area that reacts with air, and your pee begins to smell within a matter of hours. The end result is that you must flush if you don't want your toilet to end up smelling like a toilet, and instead of flushing maybe two or three times a day (maybe more, depending on how many people use the toilet and how long they're at home), a household ends up flushing 6 to 12 times a day. That's a lot of water, even if your toilet is modern.

And shitting is even worse. With the German toilet, the turd is deposited onto a porcelain shelf. Turds stick to porcelain, if you have never noticed. That is an undeniable fact. And without being able to float into water, the entire turd is left to sit and stick to your toilet. In the best case scenario, the turd flushes with one go, leaving a long brown streak that must be brushed away. In the worst case scenario, the turd doesn't flush after three tries, and you end up using the toilet brush to push the turd into the hole and then flushing.

That, in itself, should never happen. The people who sold you that toilet should be put on trial and punished severely. No one should have to do more work beyond wiping and flushing. Sometimes it may be necessary to spray something into the toilet to make it smell better (usually after a night at the carnival).

It gets worse. My mammoth turds tend to be very long. In a a normal toilet, the turd breaks the surface of the water while it is still being pushed through my sphincter. In the German toilet from hell, the turd is laid slowly in a spiral, like soft-serve icecream. This is the setup for a disaster.

Imagine, if you will, you are walking through a forest, and you bare witness to the felling of a mighty oak. You stop to watch as the great tree teeters hesitantly on one spot, slowly begins to lean in one direction, and then comes racing down with an earth-shattering crash. In mid-fall the top of the tree brushes the lower branches of its neighbors, sending off a fluttering shower of leaves and loose bark to be scattered by the wind.

Now imagine that this mighty oak is a turd, and the lower branches are your testicles. That's right, what I am saying is that a turd fell and brushed the bottom of my balls. That is to say, the top of the turd smeared agains my lower scrotum.

That should never happen. THAT SHOULD NEVER FUCKING HAPPEN! Why did it happen?

Answer: the German throne of Satan. With the all-American toilet, the water gives way to the turd and the turd falls straight down. Sometimes you are inconvenienced by a gentle splash of cold water meeting your rectum and sending a shiver through your nether regions. But even this has a positive side, because the water makes it that much easier to wipe.

Porcelain, however, does not gave way to the turd. In fact, the German toilet is a good demonstration of how two objects cannot share the same space at the same time. Instead, the turd ends up swirling, and, when it falls, it falls sideways. Against your balls.

No man should get shit on his testicles. That should not happen. There is no god.