And now for some random rambling…
◊ I burned my hand. Typing this is frustrating because my usual lightening-quick QWERTY dexterity has been reduced to that of your average DMV employee. I was taking some broccoli & cheese soup out of the microwave and somehow the damn soup jumped out of the bowl and onto my left hand. I was stunned but luckily standing near the sink. Ran cold water over it, threw on some ointment and wrapped it up. It still smarts (does anyone even say that anymore?). This incident only reminded me how I rank death by fire at the top of my Worst Ways To Die list.
◊ What’s up with people who didn’t go to college hating on those who did go? On the train today, I overheard two guys talking about how college ain’t shit. Now, I understand and agree that a degree isn’t the only key to success. Many people do more than well by skipping college. If you don’t want to or if you don’t need to that’s okay. But if you’re making a point to hate on those who DO go… well you’re just bitter and jealous. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this crap, either. Certainly, we don’t want this to be the message we put out to our kids is it? Not going to college in this day and age and STILL being a success (a fluid concept, true, but work with me here) is the exception, not the rule.
◊ I saw a little boy today who had blonde hair. He was Black as far as I could tell with hair as sandy and towheaded as Heather Locklear. All I could think of was R. Kelly and, later, Sisqo. This poor boy, who couldn’t have been more than 10 years old, will probably go through life with people thinking that he is trying to emulate one of those clowns. Or, that he’s gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I found myself thinking, “will he dye his hair brown or black?” Oh, and he was wearing long corn-rows too. Damn.
◊ I just watched the episode of The Practice where Eugene becomes a Superior Ct judge and I almost teared up. Just almost. I love Eugene. I miss that show.
◊ Porn for women is stupid. Supposedly it focuses on the parts of sex that interest women: foreplay, the lead-up to sex, kissing, emotions… Spare me. If that’s the case, you ought not watch porn. Maybe I’m just vulgar or something. I just don’t believe I would take interest in watching these people gaze into each others’ eyes, make out for 10 minutes, light candles, massage each other, and THEN get to what I imagine is pretty boring sex. Now, I understand the desire to offer something different than the normal stuff you get out there. Some of that porn is just too hard to watch. Why would I or anyone want to watch a movie where the woman is obviously in pain? If inflicting pain is your goal when sexing a woman, you have issues. I don’t want to watch that. I also do not want to see the extreme opposite – Womancentric pornography.
◊ Barack Obama keeps texting me. Well, not Barack himself, but the people over at the campaign must text me at least 4 times a week. Sometimes 3 times in one day. Why? Because I volunteered for the campaign and because I keep attending shit where they make you feel like an asshole if you don’t write your info on their clipboards. Text messages about dumb stuff too, like the latest: “Show your support with official Obama gear! Visit http://store.barackobama.com & use promo code TEXT08 at checkout for a 20% discount thru April 30th.” Yes, they actually typed “thru.” SMH. And they all thought Obama was so well-spoken.
◊ Why does Drew from BET’s College Hill talk like he’s reading cue cards… cards with only one word on each card, manned by a “slow” card-turner? I know that sounded convoluted, but so does Drew (aka Dru-Ski) every time he opens his mouth. For real for real, nobody thinks you’re hard when you threaten women, you write raps entitled “Make ya Booty Tawlk,” and you sound like you’re on a 7second delay.
◊ I saw a stripper put a can of Redbull in her cooch. My boy proceeded to drink said Redbull from that handy cupholder. Then later on, that stripper hit another stripper from the back with a lavender dildo. I don’t have anything smart to say about that. Just saying what I saw last weekend. I have a few pics, debated about posting them here. I thought against it. This ain’t that type O’blog.
◊ I also saw my ex-boyfriend this past wknd. He’s still not talking to me and seems to be trying desperately to avoid eye contact, but that was expected. What was not expected was the fact that he was wearing Crocs. Yes, Crocs. Now, I have maybe two other friends who wear this type of footwear and that’s alright I guess. I mean, I don’t share bodily fluids with them so let them wear whatever they want. When I saw the ex rockin’ the Crocs though… well that’s what you call CLOSURE. I’m good, dude. This brings me to an eerily on-point rant about Crocs courtesy of The Best Page In The Universe:
When I see people wearing Crocs, I know immediately that we have nothing in common, and that we could never be friends or have any meaningful kind of relationship. They come in every color imaginable yet look bad with every other article of clothing ever created. The only thing that goes with Crocs is social ostracism.
To their credit though, Crocs serve as an excellent idiot barometer; you can tell a lot about people wearing them. For example, Amazon.com suggest products that other customers have purchased based on the item you’re shopping for. Here are the suggestions for Crocs:
When it comes to shoes, there are usually three deciding factors: quality, price, and style. Some shoes are cheap and stylish, but poor quality, while others are stylish and durable, but expensive. Crocs usually go for $30-$60, which doesn’t sound like much for a shoe, until you consider that what you’re really paying for are melted pellets squirted into a cast-iron mold in some province in China. Crocs have the rare combination of being expensive, poor quality, and ugly. It’s quite a feat for one shoe to suck this bad.
People who wear Crocs go on and on about how comfortable they are, and how it’s supposedly odor resistant because it’s made out of some kind of anti-bacterial foam. Great point, dipshits! You know what else it’s resistant to? You getting laid. Then as if the shoes weren’t disgusting enough, Crocs introduced a product called “Crocs butter” that’s supposed to restore that illustrious injection-molded sheen to those gaping holes they call shoes:
You know that feeling you get when you’re full and slightly nauseous and you burp and you can taste the partly digested food in the back of your throat? There isn’t a word in the english language to succinctly describe it, but I will hereby refer to it as: croc-butter.