Anyone who knows me should know that I don’t throw around the word ‘love’ a lot. Actually, that’s a lie, yes I do, but I don’t mean it as the romantic chocolate and roses nauseating definition. I have kind of made my own varying definitions for love, which usually lean either towards lust or idolization. In this case, I am going with full-fledged idolizing.
I could list men all day that I admire in some way or another, fictional, celebrity or otherwise. Jason Mraz, for one, Sam Winchester (though he gets kind of winy) Dean Winchester, Ned from Pushing Daisies, Charlie McDonnell, Topher Brink, Leonardo DiCaprio, Dorian Gray, Christopher Nolan, Atticus Finch, Rorschach, Prospect from Sons of Anarchy and so on. I’m sure there are about a hundred names that I left out of that list, but with great effort and precision I have managed to narrow my long list of ideal men down to four supreme beings whom I really and truly ‘love’:
4. Bob Dylan… ‘nuff said
3. Eminem- this man has managed to rise from living in a trailer park with his borderline insane mother (I mean no offense, I’m only going off the details in your songs Marshall) to being one of the most successful rap artists to date. I don’t care much for the age old rags to riches story, I mean good for him but that’s not what gets me, honestly as much as I respect the man its not really his persona at all that gets me. It’s his lyrics. Though I suppose, arguably, his lyrics are a part of him and his persona. It’s the circle of (rap) life. Eminem’s lyrics are sharp, meaningful, entertaining, thought provoking, funny, witty, intelligent, vulgar, obscene and just a little bit controversial. There is no lyricist I respect and admire more than my man Marshall Mathers. Plus, he seems like an incredible father, so there’s that.
2. Bruce Wayne, better known as Batman- who needs superpowers when you are a multi millionaire crime fighting vigilante play boy? I don’t care what anyone says I will argue this point to my dying day. Batman is, and always will be the coolest. What with all his bat-gadgets, his kick ass marshal arts skills, all that money and his undeniable charm Bruce Wayne is without a doubt the perfect man. Overlooking the fact that he is fictional, of course, even I’m not that delusional!
And now, the moment you have all been waiting for….
Number 1…
Is…
Lionel Messi
No words could describe the love I have in my heart for this man. In my eyes he is the best football player in the world (Christiano Ronaldo can suck it, that snivelling little fool). I may identify with him because of his growth deficiency, but he over came that and it made him the amazing man that he is today. Messi is adorable, humble, driven, successful, and awe inspiring. Before I saw this man play in the world cup four years ago I never enjoyed football, either as a spectator sport or an activity. Watching him play for Argentina back in 2007, sitting at home alone in my living room in Holland I can honestly say I fell in love. The way he plays the ball, bypasses the defence and gracefully rockets it into the opponents net is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I mean it when I say I can love no man like I love Lionel Messi. There will always be a special place in my heart for all 5 feet, 7 inches of him. Get well soon, Messi!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Pink Starburst
Remember when I mentioned that ridiculously smart friend of mine who has her whole life figured out and has a 4.16 GPA and I made her sound like a pretentious snob? Well she is. (Kidding!) She is actually a ridiculously silly and lovely person. When I first moved here her and her best friend adopted me into their little group of silliness and sat on me like momma birds and helped me grow into the wonderfully mentally erratic person that I am today. Thanks for that guys, I owe you one!
There are three major milestones that I look back on with the fondest memory as I recall the development of our friendship.
1) On my very first day in the school I sat down in a class called ‘Physical Science’ which I knew I would hate because I hate physics and I suck at science. These two friendly, albeit over excited and a little frightening girls invited me to sit next to them. Happy for the fast friendship I quickly obliged. My little derrière had barely touched the hard plastic of the seat when the blond, and quirkier one, turned to me and said: “You just moved here from Holland right? Is Holland where they yodel?” No, in fact, Switzerland would be where they yodel, if the do still yodel in Switzerland, and I told her as much but she never quite gave up on the hope of me one day serenading her with my Hollish yodelling capabilities. I am afraid I have disappointed her.
2) Sitting at a table in the lunch room for no apparent reason I turned to my new friends and verbally assaulted them by accusing them of being “Blonde! And Autistic! What’s wrong with you people?!!” according to their recollection I then stormed out of the cafeteria and didn’t speak a word to them for the rest of the day. This is when they knew we would be friends. (I might not have mentioned before hand but I am socially awkward and therefore find it difficult to make friends at times… with this kind of introduction I really can’t imagine why…)
3) The third, and most prominent event is isolated to the afore mentioned ‘blonde one’ (who also happens to be the crazy smart one). We were in the school gym, witnessing an International Volleyball tournament which our school was hosting. I should mention that there were numerous cute boys present for this particular happening. I cannot for the life of me remember how, but I found myself with a single pink starburst in my hand. There I was, innocently moseying along the sidelines of the volleyball court (there was no game being played at that moment, or things might have gone very differently) thinking to myself “Someone gave me a pink starburst. I don’t remember how I got this but the pink are the best kind. Someone must like me!” As I came to this happy realisation I began to unwrap the joyous starburst to enter it into my eager mouth. The next thing I knew a mass of blonde hair and limbs was rushing at me from the other side of the court. In retrospect I probably should have shoved the candy in my mouth then and been done with it but, not knowing her as I do now and frozen to the spot in fear I stood there as this new acquaintance of mine slide tackled me to the floor, wrestled the starburst out of my hands, shoved it in her mouth and ran away. That girl must have had the nose of a blood hound because I had only peeled back one corner of the wrapping. I lay on the ground for a moment, dazed and confused thinking ‘Does this mean we’re friends now?’ We have been best friends ever since. Here I would like to add that she has since replaced the starburst in an act of sincere friendship (which was reassuring after the introduction I had to our so-called friendship). Mind you she took three years to think to give me back that starburst, but it’s the thought that counts.
There are three major milestones that I look back on with the fondest memory as I recall the development of our friendship.
1) On my very first day in the school I sat down in a class called ‘Physical Science’ which I knew I would hate because I hate physics and I suck at science. These two friendly, albeit over excited and a little frightening girls invited me to sit next to them. Happy for the fast friendship I quickly obliged. My little derrière had barely touched the hard plastic of the seat when the blond, and quirkier one, turned to me and said: “You just moved here from Holland right? Is Holland where they yodel?” No, in fact, Switzerland would be where they yodel, if the do still yodel in Switzerland, and I told her as much but she never quite gave up on the hope of me one day serenading her with my Hollish yodelling capabilities. I am afraid I have disappointed her.
2) Sitting at a table in the lunch room for no apparent reason I turned to my new friends and verbally assaulted them by accusing them of being “Blonde! And Autistic! What’s wrong with you people?!!” according to their recollection I then stormed out of the cafeteria and didn’t speak a word to them for the rest of the day. This is when they knew we would be friends. (I might not have mentioned before hand but I am socially awkward and therefore find it difficult to make friends at times… with this kind of introduction I really can’t imagine why…)
3) The third, and most prominent event is isolated to the afore mentioned ‘blonde one’ (who also happens to be the crazy smart one). We were in the school gym, witnessing an International Volleyball tournament which our school was hosting. I should mention that there were numerous cute boys present for this particular happening. I cannot for the life of me remember how, but I found myself with a single pink starburst in my hand. There I was, innocently moseying along the sidelines of the volleyball court (there was no game being played at that moment, or things might have gone very differently) thinking to myself “Someone gave me a pink starburst. I don’t remember how I got this but the pink are the best kind. Someone must like me!” As I came to this happy realisation I began to unwrap the joyous starburst to enter it into my eager mouth. The next thing I knew a mass of blonde hair and limbs was rushing at me from the other side of the court. In retrospect I probably should have shoved the candy in my mouth then and been done with it but, not knowing her as I do now and frozen to the spot in fear I stood there as this new acquaintance of mine slide tackled me to the floor, wrestled the starburst out of my hands, shoved it in her mouth and ran away. That girl must have had the nose of a blood hound because I had only peeled back one corner of the wrapping. I lay on the ground for a moment, dazed and confused thinking ‘Does this mean we’re friends now?’ We have been best friends ever since. Here I would like to add that she has since replaced the starburst in an act of sincere friendship (which was reassuring after the introduction I had to our so-called friendship). Mind you she took three years to think to give me back that starburst, but it’s the thought that counts.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Chris, this ones for you.
Recently I was studying for an upcoming AP European History quiz. Now, we all know what happens when I try to study (or at least you should by now- keep up people!) That being said, I went off on one of my notoriously useless self-distractiing thought processes. Now, just to enlighten the situation, the specific topic which I was studying was The Columbian Exchange… ‘nuff said.
I’m just gonna come out and say it. Christopher Columbus is history’s biggest douche bag. Seriously, there should be an award. I mean Alfred Nobel invented the A-bomb or something and look at him now! The most prestigious award in the world is named after his oopsy. All I’m saying is there should be a ‘Best jerk-off of the year award’ named after Christopher Columbus. (This, for example, would have gone to Kanye West last year after the VMAs... we all know why.)
I mean, the man accidentally discovered the Americas and the Caribbean when he was really looking for a direct trade route to Asia. Hey ass hole, look at a map. I know for a fact that ‘navigational manuals and cartography made map making more accurate’ because that’s going to be on my test so Chris, YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE! I mean sure, you didn’t know they were there so you thought if you just sailed around the globe for a little while you’d hit land and that would be your jackpot. Instead you brought about the greatest demographic catastrophe in human history… well done, I hope your happy.
Not only did Chris’s ‘little mistake’ lead to the spread of European disease in the Americas and devastation of natural landscape but (and here’s the kicker) if it weren’t for Chris and his big discovery there may not have been such a high demand for the slave trade. That’s right, you heard it here first. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS IS THE REASON BLACK PEOPLE STILL HAVE THAT CHIP ON THEIR SHOULDER! Blame him brothers, I do.
All I’m saying is that if Christopher Columbus had turned left, like all the sane, respectable explorers of his day did, the Americas and those beautiful Caribbean isles may still be in peace. The natives could have gone about their happy heathen ways, what with their cannibalistic rituals and their sexual indecencies. Sure some idiot was bound to sail into them at some point, but Chris, that idiot was you and you should not be proud of yourself.
I’m just gonna come out and say it. Christopher Columbus is history’s biggest douche bag. Seriously, there should be an award. I mean Alfred Nobel invented the A-bomb or something and look at him now! The most prestigious award in the world is named after his oopsy. All I’m saying is there should be a ‘Best jerk-off of the year award’ named after Christopher Columbus. (This, for example, would have gone to Kanye West last year after the VMAs... we all know why.)
I mean, the man accidentally discovered the Americas and the Caribbean when he was really looking for a direct trade route to Asia. Hey ass hole, look at a map. I know for a fact that ‘navigational manuals and cartography made map making more accurate’ because that’s going to be on my test so Chris, YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE! I mean sure, you didn’t know they were there so you thought if you just sailed around the globe for a little while you’d hit land and that would be your jackpot. Instead you brought about the greatest demographic catastrophe in human history… well done, I hope your happy.
Not only did Chris’s ‘little mistake’ lead to the spread of European disease in the Americas and devastation of natural landscape but (and here’s the kicker) if it weren’t for Chris and his big discovery there may not have been such a high demand for the slave trade. That’s right, you heard it here first. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS IS THE REASON BLACK PEOPLE STILL HAVE THAT CHIP ON THEIR SHOULDER! Blame him brothers, I do.
All I’m saying is that if Christopher Columbus had turned left, like all the sane, respectable explorers of his day did, the Americas and those beautiful Caribbean isles may still be in peace. The natives could have gone about their happy heathen ways, what with their cannibalistic rituals and their sexual indecencies. Sure some idiot was bound to sail into them at some point, but Chris, that idiot was you and you should not be proud of yourself.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Why I would NEVER want my parents’ job.
Growing up I was an… interesting child, to say the least. Aside from the fact that I was all sick and what not and everyone was all sad I think that there must have been more than one occasion when my parents stopped and thought ‘Why did we do this again?’
My sister was an angel apparently, quite child with pretty hair. If you ask me she was BORING. I came along to bring excitement to everyone’s lives, and excitement I brought. I’ve always been an over achiever so you can imagine I took this task very seriously. I fought with my ‘angel’ sister constantly. Let me tell you, in the heat of battle she was not very saintly. I always won though, so much so that she still tells the stories of my brutality. Once we got new electric toothbrushes (don’t ask, we were 90’s kids ok that was high tech!!) anyway, I wanted the red toothbrush, but so did she. So what did I do? I took the green toothbrush she left for me and attacked her with it. Now, if you were a 90’s kid like me you would know that early electric toothbrushes were not quite so sleek, it was a big heavy sort of device. (What can I say, the things we do for our teeth.) In any event I beat her on her back with the green toothbrush until she relinquished and I got the red one. Victory!
Another occasion was when she decided to put blue food colouring in my breakfast pancakes. Now, first of all I am not and have never been a morning person. I am not someone you want to mess with in the morning, if ever. That being said I don’t know why she felt the urge to cross me that morning, but it did not end well. Let’s take a moment here to reflect on what caused the fight, she wanted to put blue food colouring in my pancakes. We were weird kids, we liked colourful food. Remember when Heinz brought out purple and green ketchup that really looked more like Shrek than a condiment? I am still convinced they got the idea from a spy that followed us around in our youth. Mind you, neither my sister or I eat ketchup but I imagine we were still a goldmine in strange creative ideas for weird little children. If we could eat it, we wanted to dye it. Our kitchen cabinet was full of food colouring. That morning, however, I did not want blue pancakes. I wanted normal pancakes like a normal rabid morning monster. My sister, on the other hand, did not want normal coloured food. She took out the little pot of blue liquid, got a straq and stuck it into the pot and I grabbed the large spatula out of the hot pan (everything seems bigger when you’re but 8 years old) and chased her around the house with it. Wielding the hot spatula as my weapon I chased her down the hallway into the living room and up a curtain on the window. I have to give her props for her agility.
I feel the need to mention, here, that my sister and I have since settled our differences and are now thick as thieves as they would say. Who ‘they’ are I am not sure, but I’m sure they’d say it.
My sister was not the only one who was subject to my strange childhood behaviour, however. My poor mother, who for reasons I still cannot uncover, loved me dearly despite my abnormality, has told me stories of how I used to ‘worry’ her. Apparently I had an obsession with death. My death. This must have especially disturbed her because, as I’ve said, I was extremely sick in my early days and almost didn’t make it. Somehow, though, I did, and my parents still say their glad. However, I suppose I was not satisfied with that. I used to sit in the back of the car when my mother was driving on the highway and announce things like
“Mummy, you know if I opened the door right now I would fall out into the street and the car behind us would run me over and I WOULD DIE.” I imagine I had crazy little crazy eyes while saying this.
Another example would be, looking over my grandma’s balcony on the top floor of her apartment building
“I bet if I climbed over the balcony and jumped off the edge I wouldn’t land in the pool… I would hit the ground and I WOULD DIE.”
I have no recollection of any of these occurrences but my mother assures me I was one scary little freak. This is why, looking back, I can honestly say I would never, ever, want my parent’s job. If I were them I would lie awake at night thinking ‘maybe we should have stopped after the first one.’
My sister was an angel apparently, quite child with pretty hair. If you ask me she was BORING. I came along to bring excitement to everyone’s lives, and excitement I brought. I’ve always been an over achiever so you can imagine I took this task very seriously. I fought with my ‘angel’ sister constantly. Let me tell you, in the heat of battle she was not very saintly. I always won though, so much so that she still tells the stories of my brutality. Once we got new electric toothbrushes (don’t ask, we were 90’s kids ok that was high tech!!) anyway, I wanted the red toothbrush, but so did she. So what did I do? I took the green toothbrush she left for me and attacked her with it. Now, if you were a 90’s kid like me you would know that early electric toothbrushes were not quite so sleek, it was a big heavy sort of device. (What can I say, the things we do for our teeth.) In any event I beat her on her back with the green toothbrush until she relinquished and I got the red one. Victory!
Another occasion was when she decided to put blue food colouring in my breakfast pancakes. Now, first of all I am not and have never been a morning person. I am not someone you want to mess with in the morning, if ever. That being said I don’t know why she felt the urge to cross me that morning, but it did not end well. Let’s take a moment here to reflect on what caused the fight, she wanted to put blue food colouring in my pancakes. We were weird kids, we liked colourful food. Remember when Heinz brought out purple and green ketchup that really looked more like Shrek than a condiment? I am still convinced they got the idea from a spy that followed us around in our youth. Mind you, neither my sister or I eat ketchup but I imagine we were still a goldmine in strange creative ideas for weird little children. If we could eat it, we wanted to dye it. Our kitchen cabinet was full of food colouring. That morning, however, I did not want blue pancakes. I wanted normal pancakes like a normal rabid morning monster. My sister, on the other hand, did not want normal coloured food. She took out the little pot of blue liquid, got a straq and stuck it into the pot and I grabbed the large spatula out of the hot pan (everything seems bigger when you’re but 8 years old) and chased her around the house with it. Wielding the hot spatula as my weapon I chased her down the hallway into the living room and up a curtain on the window. I have to give her props for her agility.
I feel the need to mention, here, that my sister and I have since settled our differences and are now thick as thieves as they would say. Who ‘they’ are I am not sure, but I’m sure they’d say it.
My sister was not the only one who was subject to my strange childhood behaviour, however. My poor mother, who for reasons I still cannot uncover, loved me dearly despite my abnormality, has told me stories of how I used to ‘worry’ her. Apparently I had an obsession with death. My death. This must have especially disturbed her because, as I’ve said, I was extremely sick in my early days and almost didn’t make it. Somehow, though, I did, and my parents still say their glad. However, I suppose I was not satisfied with that. I used to sit in the back of the car when my mother was driving on the highway and announce things like
“Mummy, you know if I opened the door right now I would fall out into the street and the car behind us would run me over and I WOULD DIE.” I imagine I had crazy little crazy eyes while saying this.
Another example would be, looking over my grandma’s balcony on the top floor of her apartment building
“I bet if I climbed over the balcony and jumped off the edge I wouldn’t land in the pool… I would hit the ground and I WOULD DIE.”
I have no recollection of any of these occurrences but my mother assures me I was one scary little freak. This is why, looking back, I can honestly say I would never, ever, want my parent’s job. If I were them I would lie awake at night thinking ‘maybe we should have stopped after the first one.’
Monday, September 6, 2010
Can I just skip the college part?
My entire life I have always imagined myself growing up, graduating from high school and going to college. NOT going to college has never been an option for me. I mean all those feminists before me fought for this right? Who am I to undermine them?
Well now that it is all happening, and all happening so fast I might add, I have a major beef with all those old feminists. Back in THEIR day they didn’t have to stress over college applications and choosing a school and deciding what to do for the rest of their lives at 17 freakin’ years old and take the SATs all while juggling 3 AP classes and heaps of extra curricular activities that everyone only takes to look good on their college applications anyway. And in this modern day of facebook, who really has the will power to do all of that?! Except I look around me and everyone seems to be getting it all done, some of my friends have already submitted their applications, and I’m just chillin’ in their wake dazed and stuffing my face with ice cream because that is what I do when I am stressed. (Actually I’m just always stuffing my face with ice cream.) Currently I am writing this post instead of correcting my Bio test, drafting my History essay and answering about 6 pages of questions on Hamlet for English. Not the best game plan…
Now, all I want to do when I graduate from high school is become a hermit. For realsies, when anyone asks me what I see myself doing in five or ten years I get an image of myself sitting in a big comfy leather chair surrounded by floor to ceiling bookshelves with a cool ladder on wheels like in those old libraries. Forget the great ‘college’ experience making friends you will never forget and partying until you DO forget. I can skip all that.
In fact, at the moment all I want to do is be an ostrich. I want to dig a hole in the sand and stick my head in it and pretend that no one can see me. I had this conversation the other day at the lunch table with my friends and one of them said “But ostriches have brains the size of peanuts! Everyone would think you were stupid if you pretended to be an ostrich.” But I wouldn’t care, because my ostrich friends would accept me. And I would even feel superior amongst their peanut sized brains. While this was going on one of my friends- the one that has already applied to her college of choice, already knows what she wants to study and has chosen a career- pulled out her transcript because she just HAPPENED to have it on her, because that’s what the cool kids do these days, and somehow let slip that she currently has a 4.16 GPA. 4.16! MY OSTRICH FRIENDS WOULD BE PROUD OF ME FOR MY 3.4! They might even make me their queen... :) I should really be amongst my peers in the ostrich world. I obviously cannot cope with being a senior. And it’s only been three weeks…
Well now that it is all happening, and all happening so fast I might add, I have a major beef with all those old feminists. Back in THEIR day they didn’t have to stress over college applications and choosing a school and deciding what to do for the rest of their lives at 17 freakin’ years old and take the SATs all while juggling 3 AP classes and heaps of extra curricular activities that everyone only takes to look good on their college applications anyway. And in this modern day of facebook, who really has the will power to do all of that?! Except I look around me and everyone seems to be getting it all done, some of my friends have already submitted their applications, and I’m just chillin’ in their wake dazed and stuffing my face with ice cream because that is what I do when I am stressed. (Actually I’m just always stuffing my face with ice cream.) Currently I am writing this post instead of correcting my Bio test, drafting my History essay and answering about 6 pages of questions on Hamlet for English. Not the best game plan…
Now, all I want to do when I graduate from high school is become a hermit. For realsies, when anyone asks me what I see myself doing in five or ten years I get an image of myself sitting in a big comfy leather chair surrounded by floor to ceiling bookshelves with a cool ladder on wheels like in those old libraries. Forget the great ‘college’ experience making friends you will never forget and partying until you DO forget. I can skip all that.
In fact, at the moment all I want to do is be an ostrich. I want to dig a hole in the sand and stick my head in it and pretend that no one can see me. I had this conversation the other day at the lunch table with my friends and one of them said “But ostriches have brains the size of peanuts! Everyone would think you were stupid if you pretended to be an ostrich.” But I wouldn’t care, because my ostrich friends would accept me. And I would even feel superior amongst their peanut sized brains. While this was going on one of my friends- the one that has already applied to her college of choice, already knows what she wants to study and has chosen a career- pulled out her transcript because she just HAPPENED to have it on her, because that’s what the cool kids do these days, and somehow let slip that she currently has a 4.16 GPA. 4.16! MY OSTRICH FRIENDS WOULD BE PROUD OF ME FOR MY 3.4! They might even make me their queen... :) I should really be amongst my peers in the ostrich world. I obviously cannot cope with being a senior. And it’s only been three weeks…
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