Bitch, please. It aint' that bright.

I have only reaction to this: WHY?! Is it really necessary for sunglasses to be this large? Yes, I understand that cheeks need ultraviolet protection too, but there are creams for that. You could even go the ultra-Asian route and get a little umbrella to carry around when it’s sunny. While I’d still mock it, it’s better than these hideous glasses. While you may think these are attractive, this is what I see:When did it become attractive to look like The Fly? In this case, the experiment was botched even more badly, as you have none of the pre-packaged powers, i.e. sticking to walls, flight, and (in certain cases) the transmission of disease. I know it’s bright outside, and that pesky sun gets in the way, but is it really so bright as to warrant this monstrosity?

Perhaps you believe that your future is so bright that you need shades. Trust me in telling you that this is not the case. If anything, you’ve already peaked and are approaching your twilight years. You don’t need sunglasses when there is no sun. Perhaps you think that wearing these will trick the sun into coming back up:

SUN: Time to illuminate the other side of the world. WAIT A MINUTE! Someone’s still wearing sunglasses over there?! Is my watch right? Should I be lighting up the western hemisphere? I knew I should have gotten this stupid Swatch fixed. Guess I gotta go light up L.A.
MOON: Where is that bastard? He’s late again.

As far as I know, this tactic does not work. Soon after this happened, the moon came over, whipped the sun into shape, and explained the situation: sunglasses are a result of the sun; the sun is not a result of sunglasses.

Once again, I ask: WHY?! Unless you’re an anime character who has somehow transcended the boundaries of paper and animation cels, your eyes cannot be so large as to warrant these obnoxious things. And if you're eyes are that large, you had better be saving the world from evil queens from outer space, or whatever it is that the Sailor Scouts do.

Please.

Just stop.

The Worst Poem in Life (or Why My Brain is Bleeding)

It angers me that people think ownership of a Xanga page makes them competent poets/rappers. Case in point:

i've gotten myself into a terrible mess
issues i've over looked and never adressed
don't think its a game cuz i ain't playin
cuz its a god damn shame, all the shiet u sayin

to be continued...off to muhh fawkin wizzerk

The anger that this inspires in me has no equal. If you can imagine the rage between Lindsay and Hilary, you'll only be skimming the surface of mine. That is how deep this is. Don't think that rage is my only reaction to this, there is also an underlying sadness present. If this is how people are writing today, can you even imagine world politics in the next decade?

US Ambassador to Canada: u muhh fawkin Canadizzles best get the fawk outta alaskerk befour i send a fawkin mizzerk ur way. SUK DEEZ NUTZ MUHH FAWKUHS!

I can only hope that at this point, my home will be the (hopefully) nuclear, not nucular, missle's primary target, gifting me with an instant death. But back to the issue at hand. I'll try my best to discuss this "poem" without succumbing to any fits of rage:

This hurts my brain on so many levels. The left hemisphere of my brain has become a quivering mass of goo. This is perhaps the worst combination of self-delusion, fake ghetto-ness, and bad grammar I have ever seen in my life. And believe me, I know bad grammar.

I’ll excuse some of the misspellings, as there is no spell-check on Xanga (that I know of). Unfortunately, this only applies to such errors as adressed and the lowercase i. I’ll even ignore the ain’t, as this has really become a staple in most American vernaculars. One thing I cannot ignore is cuz. Is because that much of a hassle to type? Even if you want to cut back on the number of syllables, ‘cause is perfectly acceptable. Can you imagine if this child was addressing his cousin (a.k.a. cuz) in any way? That could trigger serious bleeding in my already damaged Broca’s area. Blood is pouring out of my ears just thinking about it. (Even as this is happening, I’ve been able to adhere to the rules of proper grammar.)

Is it really necessary to let us know how exactly to pronounce these words? Why is shit spelled with an e, creating the non-word: shiet? I assume you pronounce this word in two syllables: shi-et. The thing is, if you’re so concerned with economic syllable distribution, why would you add to this already short word? This (let’s call it a) piece flows much better with the single syllable shit, rather than the two syllable shiet. To the “poet/rapper”: It’s amazing how you’ve made this already hopeless piece of shit even worse with the addition of a single letter.

The worst offense is muhh fawkin wizzerk. I understand this is supposed to be a sort of drawled/super ghetto affectation of “motherfucking work,” but is it really necessary to spell it in this manner? The pronunciation of “motherfucking work” should really be left to the reader. Also, in reading muhh fawkin wizzerk aloud, I sound like Rain Man, albeit with a lower I.Q., no math ability, and severe head trauma.

I don't know if I have the ability to address wizzerk, but I will try my best to do so. Why do people insist on adding random Zs (followed by -erks, -izzles, or other forms of literal stupidity) to words in the hope that they can sound like Snoop Dogg? Last I checked, he's the only one who has even a remote chance of pulling it off; and it's only because he's smoked enough marajuana to alleviate all cases of glaucoma in the world: past, present and future.

Oh, dear. My ear canals don't seem to have enough capacity to handle the blood gushing from my brain, so some of the flow is being diverted to my eyes.

Excuse me while I wipe down my keyboard.

(Final Note: Overlooked is ONE WORD! Not two! ONE RWOIg;kl a;kldhg asdlja;a;lsdkjf jspellCHECK!! a;ksdaf asd puiaretj34t698 4t aphga ;hgapwroijajg; 364_+_)sdf/ eju fp syupi jrstij ,r yp nsf$$$ ENGLISH0awt8p ka;lkj45 CLASS poaid a[09a,a]ld!!!!!!!!!!

[Editor's Note: The combination of a blood-soaked keyboard and brain hemmorrhage have rendered i write i temporarily disabled. Please forgive the outburst. We hope she makes a full recovery in the near future.]

Dumbass Directors

I fucking hate people that think you live and die by them. If they need something, they automatically assume that you’d love to do it. And not just that, you’d love to do it right this fucking second!

Why do people think this? Is it because their parents loved them that much? It is a desperate call for attention that their subconscious is directing them to do? Do they simply need catering/pandering all day every day? Who knows? All I know is that these people are fucking annoying and should be condemned to death by a thousand bee stings.

Is it really necessary that I Xerox these 3 pages for you right now? Especially since I’m literally right next to the copy room and in the time it took you to ask this of me, you could have made 10 copies? Why do you insist on wasting my time? Is that a required aspect of your job?

DUTIES - As Director of [Any Fucking Department], you will develop, plan, implement, interpret and direct programs in accordance with necessary policies, guidelines and legal constraints, and to advise/assist management in the administration of these programs/policies. Proper levels of annoyance are a must, especially in roping new hires into boring, mind-numbing work. This includes, but is not limited to: having said employee call thousands of people for no good reason, copying documents that would take you 2 seconds to do yourself, and explain basic computer processes in idiotically simple language. In this position you will work closely with all levels of the organization providing the necessary balance between company and employee advocate.

In case you’re wondering, it is I that suffers under such rule. Just now, I’ve been asked to copy a 3 page document. My desk is literally 10 feet away from the copy machine. Yet one of the directors has stopped here, waited for me to get off the phone, and then proceeded to walk me through the process of copying 3 pages. In all this time, she could have made the copies herself and gotten back to her own damned desk.

Yesterday, she had me take dictation on a three paragraph letter. While this doesn’t sound so bad, she was perhaps the slowest dictator in the history of dictation. For the most part, people have a general idea of what to say when giving dictation. This was not the case. A mere 500 words stretched out into two hours of work. Two hours! A five year old can think of shit faster than that. And afterwards, she had the nerve to ask me to speed up the current project I’m working on. I’d be done a lot faster if you would stop asking me to do shit that barely takes up your own time. Maybe if you cleaned off your desk, you could find your own damned keyboard and type your own fucking letter once in a while.

Do I sound bitter? I hope so, since that’s what I’m trying to convey here.

Introducing the Magic Hate Ball

Dear Magic Hate Ball,

I’ve recently become fascinated with Asian culture and I want to get a tattoo with Asian letters, most likely Chinese or Japanese. I want to honor my girlfriend and get a tattoo of her initials (H.A.G. fyi). The thing is: she doesn’t want to do the same for me no matter how much I insist. I mean, it’s only fair, right?

I Do Idolize Overwhelming Tats

Dear IDIOT,

There are a number of problems with your letter. I’ll make this easier for everyone and just make a list:

1. I’m “guessing” that you’re not Asian, and you probably know, at most, one person of Asian descent, who must deal with your constant greetings of “Nihao!” every damned time they see you. In general, it just makes us uncomfortable, especially if we're not Chinese.
2. Here’s the dirty little secret: Asia is not a country, it’s a continent, dumbass. And if you do realize this, China and Japan aren’t the only ones there. Look at a fucking map for once.
3. There are no Chinese or Japanese “letters.” I’m guessing you want to have very complex, very “Asian” looking characters tattooed on your idiotic skin. Why don’t you find out what something constitutes before you have it permanently embedded into your skin?
4. Just because you want to make a bad decision, doesn’t mean your [soon-to-be-ex-]girlfriend should have to make the same one. Especially after the fact when you find out from the Chinese delivery guy that while your tat is an everlasting homage, it is not your girlfriend, but fried bull testicles.

Part of me wants to recommend against getting this tattoo, as it will be an extraordinary exercise in ignorance and bad decision making. In addition to this, it creates a horrible domino effect in which other ignorant assholes will be impressed by the physical manifestation of your idiocy and acquire their own horrible tattoos. However, the larger part of me (I'd guess around 98%) recommends that you do make the investment and hopes that the result takes up a large portion of your body, thus making it impossible to hide your stupidity from the rest of the world.
In conclusion, I suggest you get the tattoo, then continue to persuade your girlfriend to do the same. Soon, she’ll dump you, and you’ll just be that dumbass with “Fried Bull Testicles” or something equally idiotic on his torso with no girlfriend. Good Luck!

The Magic Hate Ball

Orange is Not the New Tan

When did this become attractive? That shit is gross! Last I checked, orange was not a naturally occurring skin color. I know that people want to be eye-catching to a certain extent, but this is not the way to go about it. Car accidents are also eye-catching, but those are never good things. And like car accidents, it’s hard to tear my eyes away from the horrifying scene.

Clearly, the sun is not responsible for this “tan.” It’s not even right to call it a tan, so I’ll start again.

Clearly, the sun is not responsible for this “orange.” Really, only fruit should be anywhere close to this shade. It amuses me because some unknown spector of the universe has enacted some sort of revenge on her. Since she’s too good for a natural looking tan gained from appropriate amounts of exposure to the sun, she is now the actual color of the sun:

CRAZY LADY: I don’t have time to get a real tan, I want a more concentrated form of skin cancer. Bring on the tanning bed!
SUN: Don’t have time for ME!? We’ll see where that gets you:

CRAZY LADY: At least I’m not pasty anymore.

Remember, there are really only five basic colors of people: black, white, red, yellow, brown. No where is orange on that list. Stop defying nature. It’s not cute.