Saturday, May 18, 2013

Apocalypse: The Remix

I spoke of the 2012 apocalypse back in December. On December 21, after a night of standing around holding my dick, I was rather disappointed to find out that we would, indeed, live to see tomorrow. The day after was obviously spent in damage control mode, correcting all the boo-boos I made in the days leading up to the phantom apocalypse (i.e.: un-cunt punting all of those dumb biddies, unfucking all of those diddies, locating all of those giraffes I decided to set free from the Bronx Zoo).
An apocalypse only seemed like the next logical step for human kind. After the Bieber/Gomez break-up I figured we had no real hope for recovery and that things could not possibly get any worse than they already were. I mean, they were just so gosh dung beautiful together.

But then in the biggest plot twist in the history of twisted plots... THEY GET BACK TOGETHER?! I did not see THIS one coming. Okay so let's review: no apocalypse, no break-up.

As crazy as it sounds, it turns out that I was wrong. I have realized that what I had previously stated about the Bieber and Gomez break-up was actually false. I was failing to see the bigger picture. Yeah, I can admit when I fucked up. I am a classy biddy like that. It turns out it was not the breaking up that marked the beginning of the apocalypse but, rather, the reconciliation. Shit.
Which brings me to my main point: the apocalypse is coming... but like, for real this time.

Shit is hitting the fan even harder this time, my fine feathered hoes and I will tell you why:

For starters, read this:

Now, I have had many a disappointing meal in my day. I have found pubic hairs, bones and other unidentified objects in my food but none of these instances ended in homicide (it was nothing a couple of titty twisters could not fix). Perhaps the noodles were not the most delectable but give the man a break.
These two patrons seem a little too strict. Violence is hardly ever the answer... unless we are talking about Taylor Swift or Anne Hathaway, of course. In those cases, violence is, in fact, the only answer. But I digress, the question I am trying to pose is: what kind of world are we living in that even our chefs need to show up to work armed and rocking a bullet proof vest?
That's right Pauly D, now is a perfectly good time to panic. The noodle debacle is hardly the first time I have heard about people losing their shit over food. Back in December I remember reading an article about a man who shot his roommate over an argument about pork chops.

Oh yes, an ever controversial topic. Everybody knows there are three things you do not talk about: politics, religion and pork chops.


Far be it from me to judge someone about losing their cool but I am pretty sure they could have settled their differences in a calmer way. Maybe dueled it out with a little Iron Chef action? Perhaps throw in a little "may the best pork chop connoisseur win?" There ya go, they would have had themselves a little friendly competition. But no, this bloke had to go ahead and take it to the extreme. The richest part about the whole thing is that the police found the shooter sitting nearby the body, most likely eating the pork chops that his roommate had made before he shot him, only to realize that he made a boo-boo. It turns out his roommate's recipe was, indeed, better than his. "Cumin, it's all about the cumin," was the only thing he said to the police as they cuffed and dragged  him away.

The last thing that I would like to mention has been keeping a biddy like myself up at night. If that does not signify our inevitable doom, I do not know what does. I would like to take this time to pay my respects to a fallen biddy. She is a biddy who has lost her way, if you will. Her name is Amanda Bynes.
Thaaattttt's you, Amanda. You know, when you were still only on the soft stuff like cocaine and crystal meth. Amanda's downfall has been extremely difficult to watch. I have been a fan of Amanda since back in the days of All That. I continued to follow her career as she went on to make other gems like The Amanda Show and What I Like About You. Later, she created the biggest masterpiece of all time: She's The Man. Do not even get me started with that movie. Her best work, her finest accomplishment.
Amanda later "retired" as an actress but then, naturally, "unretired" a few days later. Perhaps the "unretirement" should have been a sign that Amanda was losing her shit. 

I am assuming most of you have seen this video of Amanda working out in the gym.

Not being a very seasoned gym-dweller myself, I can relate to Amanda's ignorance of social norms. I have found myself very much outcasted in the gym as I tend to count my repetitions a little TOO loud and sing along to "The Climb" on repeat while workin' the treadmill. Your usual meathead, gym-dwellers are not too fond of my exercise habits and apparently Amanda's enthusiasm for the elliptical arts was rejected as well. Again, this is one STRICT gym.

The most curious of Amanda's behavior is her constant tweeting. Some say her tweets are genius, some say they are crazy. If you are asking a ho like myself, I must say I am rather ambivalent about them. I mean, some are kind of motivational. Particularly the ones that she states her weight and says how much weight she needs to lose (which, naturally, happens to be all of it). People are judging her, saying she has an eating disorder...
Eating disorder, shemeating disorder. Amanda Bynes is like a modern day Bridget Jones... on crack cocaine. We should be embracing her and making movies about her, not diagnosing her and telling her to get help!

However, what makes me so ambivalent about the Amanda tweets is that she also throws in ignorant statements amongst the the motivational weight loss ones. For instance, that she wants to bone Drake.
That is just a hard pill for me to swallow. Drake is but one of my many archnemeses. Although I have never mentioned my distaste for Drake before, do not get it twisted, I hate him just as much as the Swifty. I dislike all of my enemies equally, I am very diplomatic in that sense.

The shaved head, the nudie tweets and the pierced cheeks are one thing, but to say you want to have coitus with one of the biggest toolboxes of all time was the final straw for me. Amanda Bynes has really gone off the deep end. Another good biddy lost.

In conclusion, I greet the new apocalypse with open arms this time. I do not want to be living in a world where Lindsay Lohan is more lucid than Amanda Bynes, I do not want to be living in a world where noodles or pork chops can be the end of me. The end can not come fast enough as far as I am concerned.

Until then, stay sexy.

This was the apocalypse, the remix.


Thursday, May 9, 2013

I Don't Know About You But I'm Feeling 22

I will admit, it does not take much to raise my blood pressure but Taylor Swift really has a special gift. I have put up with her shit for far too long. I have sat around for years and watched good people listen to her bad "music."

I let the first two singles of her new album slide without saying a word (despite their blatant stupidity). I mean, "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together?" Something tells me that none of your exes will take issue with this proclamation. Also, did anyone else get deja vu when they were watching the "I Knew You Were Trouble" video? Probably because Rihanna made the same one for "We Found Love" nearly two years earlier. Awkwarddddd.
And now, now this. I can not sit around idle anymore. There comes a point when a biddy must take action. Taylor has taken her ignorance to levels that even I, the hater of all things Taylor Swift, could never even imagine. It is unforgivable. If you have not already, please watch her new video for "22." Warning: make sure you have a bag nearby and get ready to say goodbye to your last meal.

My name is Jules, and I do NOT, I repeat, do NOT approve of this message. Lemme break this down REAL quick.

With just a quick look at the first few seconds of the video, I already have something to point out. I do not doubt that this video is very much Taylor Swift's reality. For instance, I am almost positive she needs to hire girls to hang out with her and pose to be her friends. They seem to show little to no interest in her as she hovers over a cake, talking about "dressing like hipsters" and "mak[ing] fun of our exes." They seem quite content socializing with each other while she talks to herself. Sidenote: we all know you did not take ONE bite of that cake you dipshit. Eat a fucking sandwich.
Although this may be her life, this is hardly your typical 22 year old's day to day. I can hardly remember the last time I hired someone to pretend to be my friend. Middle school, perhaps? Only I paid in Tamagotchis, like any self-resepecting biddy would.

And here is when my blood starts to boil...

She claims that as 22 year olds "we'e happy, free, confused and lonely in the best way. It's miserable and magical," and when she says this, a little part of me dies, my heart partially breaks and I poop my pants just a little bit. I can tell you straight up that when I am miserable, shit is never magical. When I reflect that I am, indeed, 22, only partially employed, still living at home and cynical to the point of asexuality, I do not feel much enchantment. However, if you call a gallon of ice cream, a bottle of wine and a xanax "magical," then you might as well call me Hermione fuckin' Granger.

Taylor's shirt "Not A lot Going On At The Moment" is probably the truest thing in the entire video. Although it is meant to be light-hearted and "cute," the fact of the matter is that it is a sad reality. However, you do not see me laughing about it and dancing around like some dumb ass biddy.

ALLOW ME me to take a moment to point out the fact that Taylor is actually 23, so tell me, what in the fuck does she even know about being 22...right now? Answer: nothing.

I think you can see where I am going with this. I find Taylor Swift's song particularly offensive because I am, indeed,  22. Maybe a year ago (when she wrote this epic mess), everything would be alright if you just kept "dancing like [you're] 22." However, this approach just does not cut it anymore. The attempted twerking did nothing for my morale. If anything, the twerking left me feeling empty, alone and ultimately drove me deeper into an existential crisis like no other.
Where am I? ... WHY am I?

Taylor, my dear arch-nemesis, your music has left me feeling lonely and miserable in the worst way. If any 22 year old girl can relate to this song, then you can get the fuck out of my house. 

My favorite part of the entire video is when Taylor falls into the water... mostly because I like to imagine that I am the noble one pushing her in and also because it is the end.


P.S. And yes, that is Vanessa from Gossip Girl.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

I Don't Dance, I Twerk... Hard

With a quick look at the news today, one will find an overabundance of tales describing chaos and pandemonium. Kids twerking, teachers assigning erotic sex novels and students giving out free blow jays in the school library (yup, in front of the BOOKS. Nothing is sacred anymore).
Perhaps I just did not fall into these crowds (i.e.: remember I mentioned I spent my weekends making powerpoint presentations of pictures of dogs?). Let's just say I was a high schooler with different priorities, different interests, if you will.
I was very special...very special indeed.

I was not one to get into trouble. However, I did receive an after school detention Freshman year after I was late three times to Studio Art. The worst part of it all was that the detention was assigned on my birthday. There I was, sitting in my chair, bawling my eyes out, writing my signature over and over again in my notebook, (dotting the i's with little hearts, of course) feeling the full affects of "the man" keeping a ho down.  The teacher running the detention told me I could leave early...probably because she was sick of hearing some dumb bitch cry for two hours.

It was the the high school loser in me that got quite jealous when I read this story. Damn, what are these crazy kids up to these days?
The only videos of me from high school are either of me putting on cooking shows or interpretive dances to Miley Cyrus's "The Climb." This video made me yearn for twerking in the worst way. A big part of me wishes more than anything that I could go back in time and twerk my way to suspension like these brave, young Americans. For those of you who do not know what twerking is, it combines the aspects of ass shaking and hip popping to form a highly "suggestive" dance. All of the students (I believe there were over thirty) who were video taped twerking were suspended, uninvited to prom *gasp* and had their rights to walk in graduation revoked.
Ya really fucked up big this time. Ya twerked your way down the tubes ya little shit dicks. 

Of course the administration is only justified in their punishments of the twerkers. Twerking must be stopped. I do not know about you but I can not think of ANYTHING worse you could be doing on film than TWERKING. Twerking is the gateway drug. Twerking leads to gyrating, gyrating leads to humping and humping leads to S-E-X. 
Sidenote: I have made several attempts at twerking while writing this post. There were a few casualties and injuries. R.I.P. bedside lamp.

Let's shift our attention to the teachers of these high schools for a hot minute. 
I hardly see the problem here. What's wrong with a ninth grade reading teacher buying an erotic sex novel for her ninth grade student? What's more, Fifty Shades of Grey might quite possibly be the next great American novel. Watch out Mr. Melville, there's a new bitch in town. With a riveting plot, beautifully crafted prose and unsurpassable character development, Fifty Shades is a force to be reckoned with. 
That being said, I find it rather puzzling that this teacher claims to have never even heard of it. I am pretty sure that every woman in America has been flicking their bean to it for the past year. (Obviously a book every ninth grade male wants to read). Kudos to you, teach. Your teaching skills really hit it out of the ball park this time.

Never thought I would say this but these stories make me want to do it all over again. I feel like I missed out on so much. If only I were a few years younger! I would have been able to read Fifty Shades instead of The Scarlet Letter, I would be twerking instead of ghost riding da whip and (most regrettably) I would be giving out beejs in the Science Fiction section of the school library rather than selling Girl Scout cookies in the school Cafeteria. Ugh, I want to be a part of this beautiful, beautiful world.

Twerk responsibly.