Monday, December 19, 2011

If you hate getting presents you can send yours to me.

So Christmas is this week. I love Christmas because I love presents and I also like shiny and sparkly shit. I am like a bird that way. You know what, that would be a great present for my baby, a canary. Anyway I read an article this week about presents and how they suck and nobody should give or get them. Ew. I'm so glad I'm not friends with the idiot that wrote that article. What kind of person doesn't like getting presents. Probably the kind of person who over thinks everything. I over think nothing. Again, like a bird. That's not true but I wish it was, that I could hang out on a telephone pole all day thinking about nothing. I would be so dumb. And so happy. Anyway. Some people go crazy over presents. They worry about getting a present from someone they didn't get anything for. Bitch, please. Stop worrying about asinine shit. I love getting presents from people I didn't get anything for, it's called getting something for nothing, something some people will tell you never happens, so fucking embrace it. Who cares if they think you're a rude asshole, if you cared so much about their friendship in the first place you probably would have gotten them something, right? You should let that be your Christmas present to yourself: not caring if every idiot that you know likes you or not. I don't care if anybody likes me and it feels fucking great, let me tell you. And some people do still like me if you can even believe it. If I get someone a present and they don't get me one I assume they are secretly poor. Or that I like them more than they like me. Both of which are fine. I like being friends with poor people and also people who don't like me that much. If I didn't get you a present it's probably because I spent all my money on Thai food and proactiv and have none left. The chick that wrote the article about hating presents was pissed because people always buy her shit she doesn't like and if she wanted it she would have gotten it for herself already. Wow, what a dick. Also, this chick myst be a fucking A + consumer, having all this knowledge about every product that exists and already owning all of the ones she wants. There's lots of stuff i don't have that I want, I probably even want things that I'm not even aware of their existence yet. Those are the best presents! And guess what I do if I get a present I don't like, I give it to some loser who likes crappy shit. Then it's just like I never got it in the first place. Now that Borders isn't a place I bet I'm going to get a lot more crappy shit than usual, but I'm not going to get stressed out about it, because I'm not hung up on shit like reciprocity. That's my holiday guide for you, only get presents for people you want to get presents for and if you get something you hate set it up on top of a sawhorse in your yard and shoot guns at it. Happy holidays.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

The closest thing to a love letter I will ever write.

When I was a kid I was obsessed with Stephen King. I read all his books in grade school and my mom told me I should be reading real literature instead. I have no idea why she didn't think Stephen King was worth my time, I think he's a great writer and I should know, I've read every book ever written. Anyway, I was looking at my fucking cute baby in the middle of the night last night when I was supposed to be sleeping and I started thinking about Pet Semetary. Ok I read that book when I was probably like eight and as far as I can remember it's about this family who buries their cat in an ancient Indian burial ground and it comes back from the grave, but evil, and then their son who I think was named Gage (wtf kind of a name is Gage) gets hit by a car and they bury him in the pet cemetery even though he is obviously going to come back evil, which, at the time, I was like THESE PEOPLE ARE SO DUMB THIS IS OBVIOUSLY A TERRIBLE IDEA. Anyway I was looking at my baby last night and thinking, I understand now, I'd totally bury her in the pet cemetery. Have you ever woken up to find some dude you slept with watching you while you're sleeping and you have to pretend you're still asleep because it's so weird? I have, and I seriously fucking hope they weren't thinking about burying me in ancient burial grounds. Anyway the baby comes back to life and the mom is so excited and runs to him and the evil baby stabs her like a million times. To death. Does the dad then bury his dead wife in the pet cemetery? I don't remember, but holy shit, that book isn't even about zombie cats and magic devil babies, it's about grief. And then what did I do, I cried. I don't allow myself to cry during normal life because crying is for freaks and losers, so this is what happens, I eventually wake up at 4am, think about a book I read in 1988, and cry like an idiot. Isn't there also a girl in that book with like spina bifida named Zelda? Damn, now I totally want to re read that book.

Thursday, December 15, 2011


My birthday was on Tuesday, I'm 100 years old now. When I started blogging Tony Pierce was 103 and I was like 24. Now Tony is 103 and I'm 100. What the fuck, he's like high school girls, always staying the same age while Matthew McCoughnehay keeps getting older.
I forgot what I was going to talk about because the fat man next to me in this train had me all scrunched to the side in my seat and I just decided to engage in a ten minute battle for my seat back. Sorry dickhead, I was here first.
My coworkers forgot to decorate my desk on my birthday so it was kind of like I was Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles, except I'm twice as old as that. THIRTY TWO CANDLES.
Well, fat man next to me is listening to ludacris now and all I can think about is the time I told Mandy that ludacris is the Fallout Boy of rap.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Because I bet you're dying to know what I think of popular literature

Books. I spend a lot of time reading. I don't know why I like it so much, I just do. Right now I'm reading this book called outliers by Malcolm Gladwell which I can't talk about yet because Jessica and I are reading it together and we are supposed to discuss it on the Internet later. Spoiler alert: I hate it.
What do you guys think of when you hear the name Malcolm? I think of Malcolm Jamal Warner and then I think of Malcolm X. I've read the autobiography of Malcolm X at least four times but I still think of Theo Huxtable first. Isn't that fucked up?
Anyway. I'm going to read the hunger games next. I always have to read everything everybody else is reading because I'm obsessed with pop culture. So like twilight and the girl with the dragon tattoo. Twilight, oh my god, what a fucking creepy book. Spoiler alert. The werewolf falls in love with a baby at the end, but that's ok you guys, because he's not going to fuck her right away. I don't think i even need to add anything to that, but if you want more reasons why i thought this series was terrible, it's supposed to be this great love story between the human and the vampire but I read the whole fucking series and at the end of it I still had no idea what either one of those boring motherfuckers liked about the other one. I sort of can't believe that the twilight series is not about a teenage girl in an abusive relationship that has built a fantasy world in her head in order to deal with her shitty reality. That's what it's really about, right? No? I'm supposed to take it literally? Fuck.
The girl with the dragon tattoo. Oh my god, y'all. The first 100 pages is about banks or something. This must have held the average persons attention as everybody in the free world has read it which, how is that even possible, it didn't hold mine at all and the instructions on the back of a shampoo bottle can hold my attention. I kept reading it anyway because I hate myself. The main character is this emaciated little biker chick who is a total badass genius hacker or whatever, but then SPOILER ALERT IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE 2ND BOOK IN THE SERIES she gets breast implants. It makes no sense for the character and I don't recall it forwarding the plot in any way. It also makes no sense how much they talk about Ikea in this book.
So now I'm prepared to read and hate hunger games. Although maybe I'll like it, I liked Harry Potter so you never know. Also as I was typing this my brother texted me to ask what I want for my birthday and I said 1Q84 by Murakami, because I need to make sure I still know how to love the written word after reading all of these horrendous books.
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