Ashton Kutcher and Cameron Diaz find love at the end of that movie.
Patrick Dempsey and Brown Haired Girl find love at the end of that movie.
Sarah Jessica Parker and That Dude find love at the end of that movie.
I go to Montreal, not a movie as that will be much better than any movie could ever be.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Die Kulture
As I stated in my optional essay to an Ivy League school I didn't get into (le waah), I am a child of the nineties. Being one requires that I being staring at a screen of some sort for at least 6 hours a day. This is becoming more and more of a problem for me because like...THIS IS A TERRIBLE HORRIBLE AFFLICTION.
Like TV sucks.* I can only watch the same episode of Top Chef four times before it gets old. I can only see the same BonerJuice commercial so many times. The same goes for anything on MTV (MTV is actually the correct Polish pronuncuation of "retard." I swear. Go look it up.), VH1 or any network. In fact I realized the other day (this year has been the Year of a Million Realizations) that I watch the same show on different channels over and over again. This is fucking with my vision. Granted, this will only give me an excuse to wear more outrageous sunglasses. (Ed note: At Diznmerikuh USA1! World, the sunglasses [which are now scratched, I'd rather not talked about it] recieved mixed reviews but did spark a conversation between me and Kid Who May or May Not Be Guilty By Association.) I mean, I like seeing sexxxy Latinos cavort and compete just as much as the next guy, but just because I like something does that mean I have to watch it too?
I will regret this post much later in life, the future (where everything is on the Intertubespace), as I will be #1 Single, sitting in my futureapartment, not feeding my futurecats their futurefood, watching futuretelevsion and lamenting how great it used to be.
This brings me to the Intertubespace. Some times, for serious, I wish it didn't exist. Like for rillz. I spend too much time on it. I could take up another hobby like soccer or laxxx or reteach myself how to ride a bike. (Ed note: That was a sad day when I learned that truism was decidedly false. I forgot. Like my brain pushed that out of my head so I could remember who was sleeping with whom on The Real World: Sydney.) I wrote in my essay (le waah) about the Livre du Face. I have an addictive personality; it's a part of my family's genetic make-up. Granted, I'm addicted to the Intertubespace and not something fun, it's still bad. Again, do I really need to know whos Online Now? And Now? And Now? And in three seconds from when I last checked who was Online Now?
I know what some of you are saying, "Id A, if you're addicted to the Intertubespace, then why isn't this "blah"g ("Blah"g is copyright Id A, etc.) updated more frequently?" Because, reader(s) this is work, work for which I do not get paid**. Wink.
Side Note: If you're ever sad and want to feel even sadder but can't find the right combination of about twenty five minutes of music to express this sadness, then boy, do I have the solution for you! It's all by The Cure: "The Same Deep Water as You," "Disintegration," "Homesick." You'll thank me.
*The exception of course, is Gossip Girl.
** Your gratitude is not payment as I can not spend it on ridiculous sunglasses/tshirts/the same clothes you already have.
Like TV sucks.* I can only watch the same episode of Top Chef four times before it gets old. I can only see the same BonerJuice commercial so many times. The same goes for anything on MTV (MTV is actually the correct Polish pronuncuation of "retard." I swear. Go look it up.), VH1 or any network. In fact I realized the other day (this year has been the Year of a Million Realizations) that I watch the same show on different channels over and over again. This is fucking with my vision. Granted, this will only give me an excuse to wear more outrageous sunglasses. (Ed note: At Diznmerikuh USA1! World, the sunglasses [which are now scratched, I'd rather not talked about it] recieved mixed reviews but did spark a conversation between me and Kid Who May or May Not Be Guilty By Association.) I mean, I like seeing sexxxy Latinos cavort and compete just as much as the next guy, but just because I like something does that mean I have to watch it too?
I will regret this post much later in life, the future (where everything is on the Intertubespace), as I will be #1 Single, sitting in my futureapartment, not feeding my futurecats their futurefood, watching futuretelevsion and lamenting how great it used to be.
This brings me to the Intertubespace. Some times, for serious, I wish it didn't exist. Like for rillz. I spend too much time on it. I could take up another hobby like soccer or laxxx or reteach myself how to ride a bike. (Ed note: That was a sad day when I learned that truism was decidedly false. I forgot. Like my brain pushed that out of my head so I could remember who was sleeping with whom on The Real World: Sydney.) I wrote in my essay (le waah) about the Livre du Face. I have an addictive personality; it's a part of my family's genetic make-up. Granted, I'm addicted to the Intertubespace and not something fun, it's still bad. Again, do I really need to know whos Online Now? And Now? And Now? And in three seconds from when I last checked who was Online Now?
I know what some of you are saying, "Id A, if you're addicted to the Intertubespace, then why isn't this "blah"g ("Blah"g is copyright Id A, etc.) updated more frequently?" Because, reader(s) this is work, work for which I do not get paid**. Wink.
Side Note: If you're ever sad and want to feel even sadder but can't find the right combination of about twenty five minutes of music to express this sadness, then boy, do I have the solution for you! It's all by The Cure: "The Same Deep Water as You," "Disintegration," "Homesick." You'll thank me.
*The exception of course, is Gossip Girl.
** Your gratitude is not payment as I can not spend it on ridiculous sunglasses/tshirts/the same clothes you already have.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
DIZNMERIKUH USA1! WURLDXXX
It's time for the Disney World blog! It has been nineteen days since I have updated this blogospace. Let's begin with the beginning:
I arrive at C******** at 4 o'clock in the morning; this is something that even though I know is abslolutely never going to happen again, I still never want it to ever happen again. My body clock is completely thrown off for the rest of the trip because of this.
There was coffee, there were danishes, chitchat etc. The flight to TAMPA, yes! TAMPA!, felt so long, but what felt even longer was the subsequent bus trip to Orlando. It was the most anxious hour and a half of my life. Central Florida also does not have the most exiciting terrain. It does have the most exciting RV dealerships though, a lot of those.
So, Disney. A lot of fatties. Like a tonne (right now I am British). There were also a lot of British people there including the most badass seven year old ever. I want to be him. I imagine his name is Ian, his father works in bond trading but isn't around that much (he was by himself the whole hour-long wait for an anticlimactic tall waterslide) so is instead raised in Notting Hill by very attractive au pairs. So anyway, Diznmerikuh was crawling with chunk. IT NEARLY RUINED THE SENIOR TRIP.
Uday Pulaski was afraid to go on Splash Mountain which, honestly, I find funny. It is the trippiest ride ever. And this fox and a bear have buttsecks right at the end of it. They groan and everyone gets wet and "satisfactual." Actually, a lot of Diznmerikuh rides are just kinda gay. Like that Yeti. The problem with this rides is that a lot are just kinda lame and kinda not worth the wait. Like everywhere we (Id A, Produce Pete, Schmelter, and Uday Pulaski) went there was a line. Even for the bathroom that one time.
Honestly, I found the best part of the trip to be $uper expens9ive dinner at tres authentic French restaurant in Epcot Bistro de Paris. So French! Tres French! (That was a preview of the French version of Dora the Explorer, Lenore the Embittered Chain-smoking Whore. You are welcome.) There was escargot! FANCY! Foie gras (fo-ee grass)! FANCY! Lamb! Duck! Cheese! Souffle! Creme Brulee! FANCY! FANCY! FANCY! What pleased me most about Bistro de Paris was that we were the only C******** students in da joint. Also, Paul fro Verdun. And Marion! The Breadgirl! SO CUTE! She taught us how to say bread names in French. (Rustic and Baguette. I less than three Americaworld.) TRES FANCY! This was all before ended our friendship by taking the dessert menu (which he said I could have) out of my hands. We did leave a generous tip though, because it was the greatest meal any of us had ever eaten.
There's more to write about (like I didn't even mention the ho-tel), and I could be wittier, but its getting late. My eyes are heavy. Maybe I should do this in the afternoon. This trip made me realize even more that school is ending. Also, I totally broke sequence with this post. I said I would start at the beginning, but I jumped. There will be a sad post about this and a happy post about this. There's always something to write about. The prblem is that there's not alway someone willing to write it. Will it be you? Or you? Or maybe even... you?
Heart, bros.
P.S. I wish I updated my blog as frequently as Thought Thief updates hers. It is wonderful. And she did actually steal my thoughts again, because not only did I start blogging before her, but I invited THE IDEA OF BLOGS.*
*Even if this were true, my bank account would be exactly the same.
I arrive at C******** at 4 o'clock in the morning; this is something that even though I know is abslolutely never going to happen again, I still never want it to ever happen again. My body clock is completely thrown off for the rest of the trip because of this.
There was coffee, there were danishes, chitchat etc. The flight to TAMPA, yes! TAMPA!, felt so long, but what felt even longer was the subsequent bus trip to Orlando. It was the most anxious hour and a half of my life. Central Florida also does not have the most exiciting terrain. It does have the most exciting RV dealerships though, a lot of those.
So, Disney. A lot of fatties. Like a tonne (right now I am British). There were also a lot of British people there including the most badass seven year old ever. I want to be him. I imagine his name is Ian, his father works in bond trading but isn't around that much (he was by himself the whole hour-long wait for an anticlimactic tall waterslide) so is instead raised in Notting Hill by very attractive au pairs. So anyway, Diznmerikuh was crawling with chunk. IT NEARLY RUINED THE SENIOR TRIP.
Uday Pulaski was afraid to go on Splash Mountain which, honestly, I find funny. It is the trippiest ride ever. And this fox and a bear have buttsecks right at the end of it. They groan and everyone gets wet and "satisfactual." Actually, a lot of Diznmerikuh rides are just kinda gay. Like that Yeti. The problem with this rides is that a lot are just kinda lame and kinda not worth the wait. Like everywhere we (Id A, Produce Pete, Schmelter, and Uday Pulaski) went there was a line. Even for the bathroom that one time.
Honestly, I found the best part of the trip to be $uper expens9ive dinner at tres authentic French restaurant in Epcot Bistro de Paris. So French! Tres French! (That was a preview of the French version of Dora the Explorer, Lenore the Embittered Chain-smoking Whore. You are welcome.) There was escargot! FANCY! Foie gras (fo-ee grass)! FANCY! Lamb! Duck! Cheese! Souffle! Creme Brulee! FANCY! FANCY! FANCY! What pleased me most about Bistro de Paris was that we were the only C******** students in da joint. Also, Paul fro Verdun. And Marion! The Breadgirl! SO CUTE! She taught us how to say bread names in French. (Rustic and Baguette. I less than three Americaworld.) TRES FANCY! This was all before ended our friendship by taking the dessert menu (which he said I could have) out of my hands. We did leave a generous tip though, because it was the greatest meal any of us had ever eaten.
There's more to write about (like I didn't even mention the ho-tel), and I could be wittier, but its getting late. My eyes are heavy. Maybe I should do this in the afternoon. This trip made me realize even more that school is ending. Also, I totally broke sequence with this post. I said I would start at the beginning, but I jumped. There will be a sad post about this and a happy post about this. There's always something to write about. The prblem is that there's not alway someone willing to write it. Will it be you? Or you? Or maybe even... you?
Heart, bros.
P.S. I wish I updated my blog as frequently as Thought Thief updates hers. It is wonderful. And she did actually steal my thoughts again, because not only did I start blogging before her, but I invited THE IDEA OF BLOGS.*
*Even if this were true, my bank account would be exactly the same.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)