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This song sounds like Luke Skywalker! |
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My contacts are slipping and it burns us.
I was browsing around thespark.com a few days ago, considering looking up a book on SparkNotes, and then I saw it. The article. The one where Stephen King, bless him, said that Stephenie Meyers couldn't write.
And what did I see below that?!
TONS OF COMMENTS.
Oh my pantyhose. Just because someone says Twilight is dumb, doesn't mean that every drooling, rabid fangirl has to come to the rescue--in the most illiterate way possible! And here's something funny. Someone said Meyers said she wasn't a writer, she was a STORYTELLER.
Last time I checked, most novelists have to be STORYTELLERS. And they have to tell the stories IN WRITING.
This isn't bashing for Twilight today, kids. That's already been done. This is bashing for Twilight fans. The series' original fan base was PRETEEN GIRLS. Twilight has come under fire so much and the slavering, drooling females that ruined Meyers mood and made her choose to delay her next book until further notice, that, if I were Meyers, I'd probably want to slit my wrists and end it all. I feel some pity. But I also feel angry, because it's her fault that anyone who doesn't care about or doesn't like Bella and all her wonderful friends and ******** has to put up with this bullshit! And by bullshit, I mean the cooing, the boyfriends-have-gotta-step-it-uping, the renewed popularity of mediocre vampire fiction (Anne Rice shouldn't have changed her genre.), and the irrational defense of the book to anyone who raises an eyebrow at A GLITTERING UNDEAD MONSTER.
What the ********!
Don't attack Stephen King for analytically stating that Stephenie Meyers is not an exceptional (or even a good, in his opinion) writer. He's a crip, experienced is the biz, and he can say whatever he wants. You don't have to send him hate mail while touching yourself to a picture of poor Robert Pattinson in white makeup and contacts. Especially in such an irrational and obnoxious manner. Stephenie would be ashamed.
Dissing Harry Potter never got you in this much trouble.
Pff.
 ratchetratchetsocket · Fri Feb 20, 2009 @ 02:36am · 0 Comments |
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Paradoxical or just plain hypocritical?
The story that will eventually connect back to this question begins with a Brita pitcher. Y'know, the kind that filters the water. Well, I've been hauling big packs of bottled water back to the room for the longest time, which is easier said than done when you're hauling a 24 pack of bottled water for half a mile. Maybe it's a quarter and I'm just a p***y. Either way. So the guy down the hall was re-gifted one from another guy done the hall and comes down to the water fountain outside the room to fill up. And then he's like, "You should get one too."
What do I say?
I say, "Nope. That's dumb."
Haha.
And then I take the bus to Target and the idea of hauling those bottles just... ugh.
I suck.
But I suck and have a cup of not-nasty water.
That was filtered
from one of those ******** pitchers.
And boy, is it good.
But I kind of hope that I drown in it.
It's more of a matter of wounded pride. I just got done mocking poor Brita and BAM, I turn around and buy one. It happens to the best of us. And it happens to me. However, I have nursed my wounded pride in two ways:
a. MY pitcher is round and fits in the fridge, unlike dude's.
b. I was innovative and did something really DUH to fill it all the way up, unlike dude.
HAH.
Blub.
This really doesn't have much to do with the question at all.
I just wanted to complain about how I feel like a tool because I did something practical instead of being a total ********. And it's a water pitcher. The day I accidentally buy something corporate whore-ish, who knows? Maybe I'll go over the edge and launch into a misguided songwriting career and make everyone else feel bad for sharing air.
Or something like that. ninja
ratchetratchetsocket · Sun Feb 08, 2009 @ 02:17am · 0 Comments |
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Every morning I take some time out of my day to think about how great Crunchberries are. And the odds are, despite how highly I think of them, I won't eat them. And then the box starts crying. The Captain Crunch man gets tear stains all over him. And I point and laugh because I know it's just a melodramatic box of cereal. Carry on.
There's something annoying about the fact that no matter how late I go to bed, chances are that I can barely sleep in past the time when I normally wake up (which is late enough to be getting on with, but REALLY now, I'd like to at least make eight hours).
Speaking of Christmas (what?! I mentioned Christmas in all that mess of text!?), I'm half-assing a few familial presents by making a massive number of baked goods. From scratch. What crackheaded plan is this? A bad one. The irony of it all is, baked goods look like a lame gift, but it takes a thousand times more effort to bake eighty cookies than it does to browse the mall or shop online. Huge fan of the latter by the way. The internet has all the cool s**t. Anyways, my mission is to basically rape my kitchen with cookies. But first I have to see if the po-dunk region in which I live carries anything other than white bread in its local Wally World.I hate that nickname...Wally World. However, it is more PC than the Depths of Hell. "Need anything when I go to the Depths of Hell, honey?"
The cookies are AWSUM. I haven't made them yet, but they're awsum looking. And nothing beats a homemade Fig Newton. YEAH, that's right. I didn't buy a bag, I ******** MADE a bag. Or a homemade fortune cookie, which looks rather difficult to make, but wouldn't it be fun to ******** with people? "What's your fortune?"
"You will be raped by six wild hippos before sundown..."
Better still,
"You will have bad luck--in bed."
You won't even have to add the 'in bed', you little rascal.
e______e Baking is power.
Captain Crunch, stop ******** crying!
ratchetratchetsocket · Mon Dec 22, 2008 @ 04:39pm · 0 Comments |
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Oh, poppets. Christmas is a time of endless cheer, consumerism, and general misery with just a pinch of wretched traffic.
But never fear! We shall overcome the darkness!
Simple steps can be taken to mask your true scroogery without hurting your stash of ubiquitous gold coins, which will keep the rugrats off your case about your heart being two sizes too small.
I've always wondered if the Grinch really just had a heart attack but they made it into a nice story instead. I would have a heart attack if I killed my dog by making him pull a big sled full of s**t. Get a real getaway car, dude.
Anyways,
Firstly, smile at everyone. Even if it makes you look like a ***** any other month out of the year, as long as it's December, you'll just look like someone stuck a candy cane up your a**s as you were stepping on a broken Christmas bauble, resulting in you having a bad case of lockjaw--in other words, cheerful. If this really happens to you, it might be best to go see a physician. Just a bit of friendly advice, there.
It's also a good idea to go to the mall as much as possible. And carry a random bag with you, just in case you run into any friends and family. Yes, yes, you bought little Timmy the greatest present, but ohhh, can't talk now. As a bonus, going to the mall constantly will create suicidal tendencies and with those odds, Timmy might never have to find out that you lied about that Christmas present.
Another great tactic? Actually buy Christmas cards. Nothing makes people smile like a premade bit of cardstock with some words inside. As an added bonus, put a picture of you and your favorite pet in there. Everyone you know will suddenly think of you as a competent and independent human being. And then when you forget their birthday, well, you'll be just that much more competent.
The trouble is, how do you get out of the tree and Christmas lights?
Put a wreath on your door and invest in some red ribbon. Also, buy a wilted poinsettia flower. Nothing soothes the Christmas spirit like dead flowers, right? Suddenly you'll look like Christmas is your favorite holiday. And for decorating the inside? Maybe you should just throw wrapping paper everywhere and tell people they can't come in, since you are in a constant state of wrapping their gifts. Silly invaders.
Finally, the traffic. I recommend you find a dead reindeer and strap it to the roof of your car. Problem? Solved.
Merry Christmas.
ratchetratchetsocket · Fri Dec 19, 2008 @ 06:21pm · 0 Comments |
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I got a LiveJournal to complain about personal s**t in. It's private so I'm the only one who gets to know how lame the things I complain about are, but I have one friend (who is a real person that I know) which keeps me from totally opening up the floodgates of excessive griping. O_O
I never really understood why people make their journals public. I don't know how I'd feel if someone else snuck in and was like, "HURR what IS this s**t?!" Oh well. I could REALLY go for a parfait right now. >_> Like REALLY. Rachel told me to write something here, but I honestly forgot all about it.
ratchetratchetsocket · Sat Jan 05, 2008 @ 04:43pm · 1 Comments |
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do not cross that line of fault...fool! |
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First, a few random thoughts,
Portable CD drives are the best thing EVAR. Pl0x.
And Myspace brothels... why do they even exist?
And I REALLY need to clean. It's pretty bad when I keep hitting caps lock instead of 'a' because I can't move my arm into the correct position for all the s**t in the way. Dayamn.
Bad luck sure is strange. Once you get it, it usually doesn't leave you alone. Some people get it so bad that you think, "Good God! Someone should write a damn BOOK about them, because that s**t's NOT normal."
SO after ages of not being able to burn discs, I have finally found relief. I even felt SO good about finally being able to burn discs that I tried to make a label for one with some of those old label sheets I had from some time long ago. Sure enough the printer ******** it up. It was like LOL I AM GOING TO MISS THE LABEL, BUT NOT ALL DA WAY SO IT WILL BE s**t. I was like hehehehehe, TOO BAD. So I took the label anyways and wrote all over it, though since I'm the only one who is going to listen to it, go ******** figure why I wrote the songs on it. ********. Arrrhhh.
On another side note, I shared the word 'masochist' with someone. They liked it so much that they wrote it on their hand. 4laugh
So every time I turn on TV Guide now, there's some TV Guide exclusive show on, like America's Next Producer or some crap. My question is, is the show SO bad that they had to banish it to TV Guide? I mean, you don't even get a whole screen! and people are more interested in the WEATHER REPORT on the bottom of the scroll than whatever's on top. Actually, most of the shows are O.K. if you're just watching for like, five seconds. I actually spent half an hour watching a commercial for the MAGIC BULLET, the food processor thing. It was awesome. It's almost as lame as watching ROCK OF LOVE on VH1. I saw someone put spoof recaps on Youtube, which I MUST watch, because you could do so much making fun of that show.
It's a house full of girls all trying to get this rock star (who I've never heard of, so he can't be that great, but he must have some money). They get eliminated, so it's like Survivor, only in b***h Villa. Some of the girls are okay, like you could actually have a remotely pleasant conversation, but DAMN, some of them are like EVIL SPAWN OF SATAN, or ******** STUPID. It's like, why are you acting all pretentious and cruel if you're initially in it for fame, money, or the guy. Obviously you signed up for that, UH DUH. But no, they get all "I really luv him" and "You're just in it for the moneys" and stuff. ...It's sad, but addicting if you like watching girls call each other b***h and plot against each other 24/7.
ratchetratchetsocket · Sun Sep 16, 2007 @ 07:49pm · 0 Comments |
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pimp my ride! the wheelchair edition! |
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"Your rock star name is: All Candy! Hijacked Shuttle Bus."
Brilliant. I love you.
Let me take this time to open up and express my hatred for people who lie for no good reason. That is all.
Moving on to the main subject, I am going to discuss the ups and downs of working in a movie theater, even a relatively nice, new clean one. At least, more about the downs. Less about the ups.
You THOUGHT paying us minimum wage, supplying a few free movies, and popcorn/nachos/soda for free (on the clock only) was enough to compensate!? HOW WRONG YOU WERE! Did you KNOW about people who leave s**t for us to clean up? (in theater and restrooms.) Let us show the audience.
Gemini walks into the next theater. It's earlyish so there aren't many people seeing movies.
Gemini: Do you smell something odd?
Dude: *silent because he is a conniving fiend of secret spy organization. or maybe he just doesn't care*
Gemini: Seriously.
Gemini walks around, finding the auditorium mostly clean, except for a small cup in a cupholder at the middle of the top row. She is overjoyed because that means one more auditorium down.
Gemini walks unsuspectingly up the steps.
..Gemini comes upon a large pile of feces. And it's not like turds. We're talking PUDDLE. PUDDLE OF NASTY MOIST, SMELLY, VILE, GROSSER THAN PARENTAL REPRODUCTION, SUPER-EWWW TOXIC WASTE.
I knew something smelled weird.
Good thing I didn't have to clean it up.
Though this was a while ago.
ratchetratchetsocket · Wed Aug 01, 2007 @ 05:27pm · 1 Comments |
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Hmmm, the title has suddenly inspired me to discuss something stupid: Commercials on the Weather Channel!
Imagine this:
Chubby kid: Mawww, the sky's lookin' mighty fierce.
Large female (?): I know, Bobby Joe. I got the weather channel on right now.
Tornado hurtling at someone's house and they're stuck watching Home Depot commercials. They might wanna stop and think, "If I lose my house in a tornado, will I be worried about home improvement?"
I totally watch STORM STORIES for entertainment. UH, it's the weather channel. I want weather, not knockoffs of Twister. PLZKTHX.
Next on the bitching agenda, chain letters (again).
CHAIN LETTERS ARE NOT A CURSE, FOR YOUR INFORMATION. SOME a*****e SAT DOWN AND MADE IT UP. THEREFORE
IT IS NOT REAL NOR CREDIBLE.
They wouldn't get passed around if it wasn't for the dumbasses of the world, or the superstitious.
Same difference.
So the other day, I got a guild invite. I couldn't understand how I was chosen, since my interests didn't really match and it was kind of random, especially considering my wimpy post history. Then, I read the name of the sender. It was something-something-Pisces, then it was all clear. GEMINI seemed like a good search for some astrological-nerd named PISCES-####-###. It would also account for the random chainmail and spam I sometimes get. Wow, being numberless sucks.
ratchetratchetsocket · Sun May 06, 2007 @ 11:49pm · 0 Comments |
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