One Drink Please!!!!!
These are the worst, funniest, or lamest pick up attempts I have ever had, listed in no particular order.
"you like get drink with me?"
"what?"
"you like get drink with me?"
"No."
"why not?"
"um, you are like 50 and I am 15!!!"
"Do you want to get a drink?"
"no"
"just a glass of wine"
"no"
"Coffee?"
"no"
"a beer?"
"no"
"tea?"
"no"
"dinner?" (what? if i don't want to sit through a drink, why would I want to sit through a meal?)
"So, what's your sign?"
" You're 16!?"
"yeah."
"Well you should call me when you're legal, because I really think we could have had something special"
(this guy was selling magazine subscriptions the other day on campus)
"Do you know what you get if you get me the last 400 points I need?"
"um...a hardy handshake and a pat on the back?"
"Dinner with me. That way I can have you for dessert."
"Have you ever wanted to learn Persian?"
"no."
"You should, because I think we could have really good conversations. I've always wanted an american girlfriend."
"yeah. right."
"so do you want to go get a drink?"
"no"
"Are you waiting for someone?"
"yes"
"do you have a boyfriend?"
"yes."
"Are you waiting for him?"
"yes."
"so do you want to go get a drink?"
"So how many drinks do I have to buy you to get you into bed?"
"WHAT?!"
"because I have enough jimmy hats to go until morning"
"how are you?"
"um...fine. you?"
"Bad. Do you know why?"
"...."
"because the Czechs lost." (pretend cries, puts head on my shoulder)
"yeah, we were rooting for you..."
"So where are you from?"
"The States."
"where exactly in the states?"
"Denver Colorado"
"I want to go to Denver Colorado. Do you know why I want to go to Denver Colorado?"
"uh....no"
"Because pretty girls come from Denver Colorado." (Rach applaudes his effort)
There are more but those are some of the best. Or worst really, depending on how you look at it. There are several things I don't understand about these lines. Why? Why would you say something like that? You can't actually think it will work can you? And another thing, why to me? I mean come on! I am not what you call hot. Maybe they think crap lines will work on an odd person like myself. I think I'll pose those questions to the next guy, or girl, who uses a really bad line on me.
this game is way more amusing then it probably should be. What you do is drive your hearse as fast as possible. Then slam on the breaks so the coffin goes flying through the air.
Translated directions: click start. rapidly press the right arrow button before you run into the graveyard wall. to brake press the space bar. to play again click on "Hauptmenü" then start again.
How Drunk Was I?
Children, don't do what Lauren does. Learn from me. Don't go near a computer when you are this trashed you will probably end up writing an email like the one below. This was written shortly after the Sleaziest Man competition picked its winner(if you haven't read about that one it is posted below). Infact this may have been shortly after I went sailing into that keyboard. Details are a little fuzzy.
"i have hadway to much to drink ti be typing. ther is a chinse leson going on behin
me. they ar talkin abotu monkys. im confussed. but i dint hav topay for any rinks.
i gt drnk 4 free! yeahhh! i win. i thnk i should sleeeep. bt the room wot stop"
Wow.
Dance fools! Dance!
Do you know what I love? A dance off. Any movie featuring a dance off is worth watching, even if only for that scene. There just simply aren't enough dance offs in this world. So I have an idea. Now what I am going to propose is not going to be a quick process, if anyone ever takes it seriously it will take hundreds of years to catch on, if ever.
I say we solve all fights and world conflicts with a dance off. If nothing else the very idea is hilarious! Picture Bush and Saddam dueling out their conflict in a dance off. I have to admit, I think Saddam would beat us, but then again Bush had those wild college days. He may have picked up some moves inbetween the coke and the booze.
Or picture past conflicts. Hitler, Tojo and Mousilini against Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin. That be funny. I don't think any of them were good dancers. It'd be the white man overbite all the way.
It would totally change the way we elect world leaders. Or we could have a whole army of dancers. Headed by Col. James Brown and Gen. Beck.
the mental images are fantastic.
I'll stop now.
And The Winner For Sleaziest Man of the Year Is....
So you know how I get hit on by sleazy creepy men? Well we have a winner for sleaziest and creepiest. But the bad part is, I went out with him, TWICE! OK, don't judge yet. Let me give you the full story, and then you do indeed have to side with me.
He was staying in the same hostel as me, actually in the same room. We got locked in the room with this other guy, this is how we met obviously, bet he really didn't seem that creepy. So when finally someone came to let us out of the room he asked me if I wanted to go for a drink. I agreed but wanted to keep it on a friendly basis so I insisted on paying for my own drinks. So we stayed out drinking until like 2am or something, by that point he had begun to flirt a little.
Well the next night since we had nothing better to do we went out again. On our way out the door he said 'Tonight lets get drunk!' So he buys the first round of drinks, and is being kinda, not strange yet, just more annoying. Like at one point he was talking about Martin Luther King and Malcolm X and said that they were basically the same person. To which I responded with a well formed arguement of uh no they weren't. I did bring up actual points. But basically from this point forward it's down hill. I won the arguement at which point he practically yelled through the bar 'Damn girl! You know more about black history then I do, and I'm a negro.' I decided it would be a good idea to change bars at that point. At the second bar, nothing bad really happened, but then we went to a third bar and things got creepy. Wait, no at the second bar he started with the random grabs. I have a spot above my hips on my sides that guys LOVE! If you poke that spot I jump, I have had lots of guy friends who do this, now he started (how do they all know about it? Are they given a map?). The third bar was crowded, good thing too.
He had had to work that day, and since we were out until 2am he was late for work by like an hour and a half, well he was telling me this and said that that morning he was going to wake me up to yell at me for making him late but didn't know which bunk I was in. But then he saw a pair of feet sticking out from under the covers and thought 'That has to be her.' And he was all set to wake me up but then saw a little silver sliver on my toe, and thought my toe ring was so cute that he
to changeed his mind, AND DECIDED TO WATCH ME SLEEP FOR LIKE HALF AN HOUR!! That is so creepy!! He kept telling me how peaceful I looked, but also how I looked like I was drugged because I didn't move, but he didn't want to wake me. I don't know if you have ever had some guy you don't really know tell you that he watched you sleep but it will make your skin crawl. The problem is by this point I already have a LOT of alcohol in my system, like 7+ beers, oh that is bad. But he hasn't said possibly the WORST thing you can say to woman. About half an hour later, suddenly he leans over and says, completely seriously too, 'So how many drinks do I have to buy you to get you into bed?' which my response was 'WHAT?!' and as if that first statement wasn't bad enough, here comes the clincher,'Cause I have enough jimmy hats to go until morning.' That was the first time I have ever slapped a guy that it wasn't meant in a whatever-you-ass-but-you- are-still-my-friend. No this was a full on YOU-FUCKING-ASSHOLE! salp. I feel he deserved it, so did the bar staff, that is why I was not asked to leave.
But oh, back to the hostel who do I run into in the common room? You guessed it Mr.Asshole 2004. Who still thinks he has a shot! Still poking me in the side(which the other day in the shower I notice I have bruises from). But when he realizes he doesn't have a shot he pushes me into an elctronic keyboard, which damn near falls off the stand, and sends cell phones flying(everyone was using the outlet below it to charge their phones) luckily we had a witness to that too. One thing is for sure, I didn't get a whole hell of a lot of sleep that night and was on the train out of there way before he got up.
Now I am officially creeped out again and feel the need to take a shower.
Singing Drunken Lullabies
Ever read an email or letter you wrote to a friend and wonder what the hell you were on when you wrote it? Sure you do! I recently found several such emails and decided to post some of them over the coming weeks. Lucky you! To start it off, I have a nice one that I wrote to Rachel after hearing that she was going drinking with a bunch of her friends.
"So how was your hard night of drinking? How is your head feeling? Is it threating to explode from the ear spliting noise that your keyboard releases everytime you hit a key but you love me so much that you will endure such torture just to tell me to fuck off?! Does your tongue feel like you need to shave it?! Do you feel like such crap that you make the stupid empty promise that you will never drink again?! Probably not. I have a feeling that you feel just short of fantabulous, and you know if I was there I would tell you you look it too. Or maybe you do feel like shit because you woke up with some guy that everyone refers to as Ping Pong (though no one actually knows why) and you are trying to remember why he is wearing a belly dancers costume, you have on a tux and there in a goat currently attempting to eat your left sock. Don't worry though, what you are going through at this very moment isn't half as bad as what the others are waking up to. But take it from someone who has been down that same road one to many times, those sore spots on various locations of your body, don't look at them. There is a good chance it says something along the lines of 'Timberlake couldn't rock this body if he tried.' or if you are lucky, it will just say 'Mom.' Either way it's best to have a friend, or if they are all missing in action after last nights festivities, Ping Pong, look first and try to break the news to you gently."
So Rach, how's Ping Pong doing these days?
well children as we all know it is election time. This means crappy mud flinging ads about how much the other guy sucks. This year we also get a nice commercial with a very evil looking Laura Bush. But with these ads, comes the comedians and their parodies. So please welcome back Will Ferrel as George W. Bush. You'll laugh, you'll cry, it's better then Cats.
Oh! BULLET hole!
I love it when you completely misunderstand something. I went to the Mayan theater last night to see "Garden State." As we were being handed our tickets and change the woman at the ticket window winked at me and said "I like your butt" I was shocked. I thought to myself "Man! They are getting really friendly at the independent theaters! This is taking friendly customer service to a whole new level!" Then I realized that she probably said " I like your BUTTON" refering to the "He's Not My President" George Bush pin that I have on the strap of my medical bag.
I'm a smart one.
If you didn't see the original, thats ok, this is still funny. If you did see the original, the song is the same the animation is new. Luke and Vader now have bling and better dance moves. It's fun for the whole family.
Life is good. I found a place in Denver where you can buy Kinder eggs. Oh baby.
edited to add link
Dream Jack White Is Scary
I had a really strange dream last night. So naturally I feel the need to tell you all about it.
I was grocery shopping at the Goodwill store which was in like fucking Left Hand Canyon for some reason. But it was like a giant warehouse store. It went on forever on the inside, but was wedged nicly into the canyon, and the floors were made of astro-turf. But anyway, all I wanted to do was get to the check out. When I finally got there an announcement came on the PA that Jack White was in the store. So I immediatly got out of line to go meet Jack White. Well I cought up with him, and well he looked like he had seen better days, he needed sleep bad. His eyes were like purple from lack of sleep.
Anyway, I tapped him on the back and started to tell him that I really liked his music, and he fucking attacked me!! Like grabbed my shoulders and started shaking me while yelling at me that he was sick of people saying that to him. Let me tell you, cranky sleep deprived dream Jack White is scary.
Finally his manager pulled him away. And I was kinda angry with him. All I wanted to do was give him a compliment. So I was like "So you are sick of people telling you that you're great. So what do you want me to do? Call you a fucking prick?!" At this point he got all excited and was like "YES!!" So I called Jack White a prick.
I don't really think Jack White is a prick, I've never met the guy. I didn't want to call him a prick but he insisted, then seemed very relieved when I did. Crazy. Now I am afriad to ever meet him.
Also the PA said that Johnny Depp was in the store, I didn't meet him though, that is probably for the better.
added several hours later:
So I remembered later this evening that after the incident with Jack, I started my long walk back to Denver from Left Hand Canyon, thats only what? 50 miles? Maybe a bit more. Well there was this guy that lived in the canyon who bought this old battle ship from WWII and decided that he was going to restore the whole ship. In the canyon. By himself. How he got it hundreds of miles inland, into Left Hand Canyon, into a little creek is beside the point. You only think of such things when you are awake. The point is, he was very defensive about this battle ship. He threw a big metal pipe at his nephew who tried to help him.
Thus concludes my crazy ass dream. I would love to hear a dream interpreter solve this one. Actually it probably means someone is going to bludgeon me to death in my sleep.
Gurtrude? Is that you?
Is This The Football Match? Or A Soap Opera?
My house is a Telemundo free zone. Or very nearly. The sound comes in clear as a bell, but the image, not so much. I can just make out fuzzy little shapes of the Olympic soccer players, usually in black and white, as they sprint down the pitch. Ocasionally I get a dash of what seems to be early 50's techno-color, before it fades back in to its fuzzy black and white static.
This situation is extra challenging. With the fuzzy black and whiteness I can't see which team is which very well. Which player has possession, forget about it. The only chance is to hear the announcer. Which brings me to the other problem. I don't speak spanish. So being able to hear the announcers doesn't do me a whole hell of a lot of good. Six years of public school spanish and I can say important things like "one beer please," "where are the bathrooms?" "one more," "Check please" and "Do you speak english?" Basically I can go out drinking. But watching a football match? I understand one word, GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!
But because I love international football (especially the european clubs) so much, I will still sit there and try to watch it. It's a good thing I am house sitting for someone who does receive Telemundo. I think my eyes would be destroyed by the end of the Olympics otherwise.
Dutch Boys!
I really love Dutch boys.
with the exception of the creepy one I went out with in Utrect.
That is all I wanted to say.
In The Name of Philosophy, FUCK OFF!!!
OK kids. Some of you have heard this already and in these exact words. I was too lazy to write a post on the subject so instead I just cut and pasted the whole email that I sent you guys right after this happened. I sound a little bitter in it.
Why me? WhywhywhywhyWHY?!?! Why are the sleazy and psychotic drawn to me? ME?! Do I have some sort of Omen or something pointing me out saying "This one!! She is one of the chosen ones!!" If this is the case I think the the Board of Sleazy and Psychotic Persons should have at least sent me a memo and a complimentary supply of pepper spray. That is the least they could do. But no! The BASTARDS!! Instead they leave me to fend for myself and gradually promote me through the ranks, of how crazy a person can be to talk to me. And frankly I am sick of it. Maybe I sould explain why, I am suddenly fed up. That would be because it seems that I have moved up is the crazy world(or down depending on how you look at it). Old Dutch grandmothers picking a fight, guys randomly asking you out on the street, ocassionaly following you, those are apparently no longer enough. Now we have moved MUCH closer to arrestable offences. Actually maybe you can get arrested for this one. I don't know...
So I was walking through the museum quarter on my way to meet Marianne and go to the MOMUK(Modern Art) and this guy started talking to me. No big suprise. He started by asking wether I was a liberal or conservative (Note to self, when someone asks that ask why they want to know.) I mean even organizations like Green Peace don't ask me stuff like that. But whatever. So he starts telling me about how he is from Graz and was at his friend's birthday party the night before and how they were talking about this philosophy Free vs. Conservative. And to prove a point (I guess this was all in German so I was trying to follow, but missed parts) about being free his friend went out on the street, dropped his pants and smoked two cigarettes. What their philosophy was and what this proves, I am not sure. But anyway, they get into an argument about how standing on a street with your pants down proves you are free. The guy relating this story to me disagrees at which point his friend calls him a conservative. Fight or something breaks out, I don't know, but somehow it turns into a 10euro bet that the guy being called the conservative won't drop his pant and smoke two cigarettes in a public place. Either he REALLY wants the 10euro and is a freak or he hates being called a conservative and is a freak. You pick. But this is where I come in. This guy wants to, and I quote translated from german for your benefit, Take me to a side street where it won't cause trouble, and show me his "sexuality, in the name of philosophy." WHAT! THE! FUCK?!?! In the name of PHILOSOPHY?! Oh, did I mention he was 50, maybe 60 years old? Fuck it! I turn in my badge or grail or whatever it is that lets the creeps know you are a chosen one. And as soon as I figure out how to say pepper spray in german I am going to invest in some. I quit.
The Crying Game
There is something wrong with me. Something other than the craziness. This, this is emotional.
I can sit down and watch a documentary on war and torture and not bat an eye. Those Christian aid charities with the commercials that show starving children, I can handle them no problem. And yet I can't watch those stupid little stories about Olympic hopefulls and the power and the joy of the olympic games (in case you didn't know, I REALLY love the Olympics) with out getting choked up. What. the. fuck? I see people extatic with joy over winning second place and I fight back tears. I was watching the opening ceramony for the Olympics earlier and at like 4 points I wanted to cry.
This is not to say that I want to sob and blubber. No no. Just a tear or two. To show my love, my joy, my...whatever. But why? why? why? why? why? why?! I just don't understand this. I'm usually not that emotional! At first I said it was PMS. Now I see that that isn't the case. I can't attribute it to drugs. I'm not on any.
HEY!! Maybe that is the problem! Hmm...
fucking republican bastards. Scroll down and read August 8. I warn you it is a rather long and scary read. But it is worth it. August 10 (which the link should open right to) has a nice photo of what a great guy our president really is.
Tipsy Lauren and Money to be Made in Organic Foods
I LOVE European football. Love it! So this June/July when the Europe Cup was on, I watched a lot of soccer. For awhile there I watched two games a day. When Rachel arrived in Europe, I roped her into watching the games with me, we were both hooked.
When we arrived in Prague the tournament was coming to an end, only three games left, The Netherland vs. Protugal, Czech Republic vs. Greece and the winners in the final game. We wanted the Netherlands to win it. And since we were in the capital of the Czech Republic, we definatly wanted them to advance. Well the Netherlands lost, rio. But we still had hope for the Czechs.
In the center of town they had set up a huge screen for people to watch the game live. We decided that we weren't up for standing through the whole match, that we would go to a pub that I had gone to several times last time I was in Prague. If the Czechs were winning in the last ten minutes or so of the game, we would join the crowd in the center.
So it was off to Jo's American Bar. We drank, I was having a great time. I was floating, if you will. The game goes into overtime, Greece wins it in like the last minute of the game. We are sad, I have had too much to drink to be real sad. In fact the sadness fades after a minute or two. More drinks!! Rach kinda wanted to leave, I was having a blast, I talk her into another drink. I should mention the actual bar we are at. Jo's is a very narrow pub with the bar and a row of tables, there is also a back room but...
Anyway we had taken seats at the bar, which was a little too high and the seats were a little too low. Therefore my eyes were level with the rim of my glass, sorry, goblet. My beer came in a goblet.
Finally we decided it was time to go home. Having to go all the way across the city center to our hotel I decided to use the bathroom before leaving. Simple, quick task right? Not for Lauren! The bathrooms at Jo's are very nice, but very small. They consist of two tiny rooms, one with a sink and one with a toilet. I found out earlier in the night that if there is someone in the room with the toilet and you are waiting to get in there are two ways that that can happen. 1) you both leave the bathroom area in general or 2) you walk into the stall with them and then they exit to wash their hands. While trying to explain to the woman in the bathroom how this system worked, we started talking. Then someone else showed up to use the bathroom, it was rather a lot like a Three Stooges short. So myself and the first woman leave to continue our conversation in the bar. During which I keep seeing Rachel lean back with the look of "What the hell is she doing?" plastered on her face. Upon realizing that if she doesn't intervien we will never get home Rach comes over and orders me to go to the bathroom.
We are finally on our way home.
Since I was a bit tipsy, Rach was in charge of getting us home. On the way we ran into this English guy who had been seperated form his friends and was looking for a club called the Roxy where he thought they were going. All around us we could hear the sweet song of large groups of drunk Englishmen so we kept have to croutch down and listen very carefully and in a very animated fashion. Then out of nowhere he turns and begins the following conversation:
Him: Are you from Philedelphia?
Us: ...um, no.
H: Well, around Chicago then?
U: No a bit farther west.
H: Do you know anything about organic food?
U: ...um...? *thinking: what the fuck?*
H: Because this guy Craig (either Sims or Sams, we don't remember) was the first to produce it in America. Now he's a multi millionaire.
U:...uh huh
H: Look him up when you get back the States.
Rach said for a while that she was actually going to. I am not gonna lie, that would be fantastic.
Anyway, while discussing organic foods, we missed our street. We ended up having to get directions from these two guys who said they were Czech, but were most definatly American. Whatever, they got us home and the english guy to the Roxy. So it all worked out.
Man I hope you aren't still reading this. It was rather crap. Sorry.
Take revenge on all those pretty, and not so pretty, celebs by undoing their plastic surgery! Strech out their noses, ears, and teeth. Maybe a nice double chin or bags under their eyes. Whatever floats your boat. I recommend the photo of Al and Tipper Gore. Enjoy.
P.S. For a real challenge, try to make Dubya look smart. I bet you can't.
Greedy Bastards
Ever notice that on loads of websites, i.e. University websites, the sections that are the easiest to use and most straight forward are the sections where you give them your credit card number? For example, it took me roughly 2 minutes to pay my tuition bill online, yet I have been searching the website and all the millions of papers they gave me for information about when and where to get my student ID. So far, no such luck. All I have found is a tiny little note that says they will email me the info at the end of July.
Haunted Bridges, Drag Racing and Casa Bonita: A true tale of a bunch of bored college kids
Where to take visiting friends to make the best lasting impression of the rich cultural diversity Denver has to offer? Why, Casa Bonita of course! This bright pink hacienda reminds of us of an old spanish mission, and of a simpler time, the time of it's construction, 1973. It's bright pink tower rises above the roofs of the surrounding dollar stores that share the same strip mall complex. Yes this truely is a mystical place.
When inside, struck by the pungent aroma of chlorine and mexican food, you fall in line behind the other people making their pilgrimage to the center of this holiest of mexican theme restaurants, the birthday parties for little kids and fellow college age kids. Through the winding faux adobe, where a helpful Casa Bonita representative takes your order, to the lunch try pick up, to the little hole in the wall where your food comes out. Then up a set of stairs to the belly of the beast. Clutching our trys close to our bodies, the 9 of us follow our host to our table, all excited and a little scared (mainly of the food). The mariachis are playing, the waterfall is flowing, let the fun begin! We eat, or rather Ellen, Matt, Gabel, Jen, Ben, Sunny, Rach and um...can't remember the other girls name, eat, I peck. Three bites, bring on the Sopapillas! The second reason for comming to Casa Bonita. After a few rounds of sopapillas and a show involving a man in a gorilla suit, its off to the gift shop and Black Bart's Cave! We go through the horrors of Black Bart's Cave twice, and catch some more cliff diving action before it is time to head out.
After the glamor and flashing lights of Casa Bonita, we exit into the comparable drab world of the West side of Denver. While here, we decide to hit up one of the dollar stores, but which one! They made the decision an easy one, they were all closed. So after much debating we decided to head out to St.Marks Coffee house. Rach climbs behind the wheel of her sporty little car, Joleen, and prepares to race Gabel, Ellen, Jen and I to victory against our sinister rivals. We rocket along Colfax, flashing gang sign, spitting, I believe Jen mooned the other car but can't be 100% sure, and yelling taunts all the while. We reach the finish line and prepare ourselves for our next adventure by filling up with caffine.
After about an hour it is time to head out to The Third Bridge, aka The Haunted Bridge (insert horror movie music here). But many battles will have to be fought and won before we reach this spectecle. The first, getting out of the parking lot. Not an easy task. It involved an Austin Powers like 32 point turn. This victory won, it's off to Aurora, Indian for "no trees, many strip malls" according to the Onion. The long ride involves sing alongs of songs that we remember being popular in the 80's and 90's, cell phone calls as to where we are meeting our guide and the occasional attack from Ellen. We drive for ages looking through seas of strip malls for this legendary Target where our guides await, we loose the other car in the process so have to stop an get them to meet us. After seeing them drive past us 4 maybe 5 times and many calls, they find us. We are off again in our search for Target.
Finally we find it! And our guides as well! Sweet sweet victory.
They lead us out of the far eastern suberbs of Aurora into the empty great plains of eastern Colorado. Darkness surrounds us as we pass the Youth Corrections Center as we head off to Third Bridge. During the journey we are briefed as to why this bridge is haunted. Many years ago, though no one knows how many, a bus or van (details are a little vague) carrying a girls field hockey team crashed out here on this lonely strip of highway killing most, some or all of the passengers. It is rumored that if you stop your car on the bridge and turn off the engine it won't start again. Also one of the people who was brave enough to go into the dried creek bed that this bridge crosses was confronted by a group of people speaking in tongues. Scary shit.
We finally reach the bridge, we are led over it, pull a U turn, drive over it again, pull a U turn, drive over it again, fuck this we are pulling over and getting out. We are informed that our guides are very afraid of this bridge. So the Casa Bonita crew pulls over and gets ready to explore. Fuck it is cold and dark out there. Oh good god a group of teenagers emerge from under the bridge! This has become a thing to do for bored kids from Aurora. We think we should charge admission. So we get out, bundle together and head toward the bridge. On it we look around, our guides decided to join us, but really to test the rumor about your car refusing to turn on when parked on the bridge. The car turns on. They try it again, same result. We look around on the bridge some more. Oh shit! There are two cars coming! One from each direction and we are on a narrow bridge! We all go running and screaming away. This is by far the creepiest thing that happens. One group splits off to go explore under the bridge, the rest of us hang out talking about how we were expecting something...more, more than just a bridge anyway.
When the group gets back we begin our long quest back to Target for tearful good byes, then back to civilization! Back to the city rockin out to bad songs on the radio, which included "Super Freak," "Domo Arrigato Mr. Robato" and Midnight Oil's "How Can We Sleep While Our Beds Are Burning?" I am the first one to be dropped off at my sweet home in the city, the time approx 1.30am.
I Want to be on Reality Television
I am currently watching "Trading Spouses" on Fox. One part of me is saying "why? why am I watching this shit shit show?" But the other part of me is saying "I totally want to be on reality tv!!"
I don't want to go on THIS reality tv show. No, that wouldn't work, what with not being married or having a family and all. No I want to go on like "The Real World" or maybe "Joe Millionaire" those would be fun. I'd go in say everything they want to hear in the interview, and after they said you made the cut, OH HO HO!! That is when the real fun would begin.
When the standard hot tub scene begins, because just about every reality show has a hot tub scene, instead of joining in and very slowly getting nikid and slutty, I would roll out the slip and slide and the bar. Have myself a grand old drunken time. Oh that is where its at.
Or the video confession booth. Oh baby. Grab a novel and lock the door. Hang out for hours. Just to piss everyone else off. In say the real world house, throw a huge party, complete with bouncers at the door, so only the people I want are allowed in.
On like "Joe Millionaire" instead of lusting after the bowhunk that you are supposed to be chasing, hang out with the butler, the camera guys, whoever. You still get a free trip out of the deal. Because that is really what my reality tv quest is what its all about, getting as much free shwag from the networks as possible.
But the reality show I really want to go on is "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy." Those boys are fun. I love gay men. Unfortunatly They do not have "Queer Eye for the Clueless Girl" If they did, I would be there.
Where There's a Will...
After seeing the Sahara Hotnights and the Hives last week I had to run out and buy their cds. They were well worth the money spent too. I spent the whole ride back to my house after "Harold and Kumar..." the other night rocking out to the Sahara Hotnight. Much to Kate's amusement. When we reached my house Kate was reluctant to return my cd to me, I don't blame her. So I promised her I would burn her a copy.
Upon closer inspection of the cd I noticed that right under the title was the FBI warning. Hmm...
The warning on the Hives cd was much more noticable. Bold print all the way around the cd.
Having just passed through the new anti piracy security measures I decided not to chance it. Who knows what extreams the KGB, I mean FBI, would take to keep me from burning a copy of this cd for my friend? Not to mention the record company! So I waited a few days. My curiosity grew. I wanted to know. Would it be like the FBI warning that comes on before the feature presentation of the video I just rented where it is kind of an empty threat? Or since it is in my computer, would there be some sort of virus? Can they monitor such activity?
So finally while talking to Kiyomi on the phone today, my curiosity peeked. I inserted the cd and hit the import button. They only thing that happened was that the cd, suprise suprise, imported. Thats it. No SWAT team breaking through the door. No computer shut down. Nothing. In a way I am kind of dissappointed. You would think if they are going to go through so much trouble to stop you bringing a video camera into a sneak preview they would at least put some anti-copy technology on a cd. They have to know that people are going to try to copy it. It's like when someone tells you that you shouldn't do something, but they don't give you good reasons why, you immediatly want to go do it. It's human nature.
Even if there was anti copy technology on the cd, I am very confident that someone out there would find a way around it. After all, Sony spent millions on anti copy software only to be out smarted by a guy with a sharpie marker. The same goes for bootleggers at the movies. You may stop them from bootlegging the very first showing, but what happens at the next one?
This is not to say that I think anti piracy laws should be abolished. No, I see where the producers, artists ect are coming from on this. I just think they need to take a different approach. What that approach should be, I don't know. I can offer no ideas. But it needs to change. I know this because I have never considered taking a video camera in to a movie theater and bootlegging a movie, but after that security screening the other night, I found myself thinking about different ways to get around it. That is a bad sign.
But afterall, this is just me and my opinion.
Yeah ya do! Ok, so they don't actually have snake as an option, but you can see the world from a frogs POV. Or perhaps you'd rather be a deer, or bison! Whatever, I was bored. Have fun.
Check out the drummer from the Von Bondies tour journal. He makes me laugh.
click on title for link.
