The Bane of My Existence

That little strip of leg hair on my shin that I NEVER FAIL TO MISS. It haunts me day and night.

Everyone can see me. I'm a glaring oversight in your shaving regime. No matter how hard you try, you'll never get rid of me...

It has a warbling, ghost-like voice. Like oooo-ooo-ooooo. That probably wasn't good as a clarifying descriptor.

I go around each calf at least three times; I think I'm starting to shave off my skin, I'm being so thorough. And yet, as I pull on my boots, I feel the renegade line of tiny hairs, mocking me.

Damn you, rebel leg hair. One day, I shall defeat you and the powers of evil shall mourn their loss, for they will be so weakened that the powers of good shall triumph!

In brightest day, in blackest night,
No evil shall escape my sight.
Let those who worship evil's might,
Beware my power... dull razor's fight!


In case you couldn't tell, I'm excited about the Green Lantern movie.

PS- I've already seen the new Harry Potter movie twice. Saw the premiere and saw it again with my boyfriend on Friday. A reenactment of my first time seeing it:

Me: This is pretty exciting, the first installment of the finale. Hopefully they'll get it right, considering it'll be like five hours total.

Friend: Eeeeeeee!!!!!!!

Friend spasms with joy. Movie begins. I begin to spasm with joy. Movie ends.

Me: Eeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!! That was.... AMAZING. I mean the— and with the— and then the— I CAN'T WAIT FOR PART TWO!!!!

I come dangerously close to exploding with sheer happiness and fangirliness. Luckily, I am saved from a grisly death by the thought that I must see the second installment. Ron and Hermione kiss, don't you know.


A reenactment of my second time seeing it:

Me: Oh my God. Oh my God, it's about to play. Oh my God. I mean... oh Merlin.

I snort and giggle like a lobotomized ferret. My boyfriend seems to think my enthusiasm is adorable at first. After five such snort-accompanied exclamations, my zeal apparently became less appealing.

Le Boyfran: Allie. Calm down.

Me: But it's so amazing and it's starting soooooo soon! 

Le Boyfran: Yeah, so calm down and stop acting like an idiot.

I sulk, but still vibrate with energy and begin to drool when the opening score begins to play. 

The movie ends. I want to ask my boyfriend what he thought of the movie, but I have sadly fallen into a pleasure coma, only to reawaken when the second part of Deathly Hallows is released. To write this account of my reaction to this first part, I built a time machine and came back to Sunday, Tuesday Nov. 21st, 2010. I stopped by the hospital to check on Coma Me. I do not look peaceful sleeping. I look a little like a monster hybrid of Crookshanks and Scabbers.

And there you have it. There is clearly no excuse for not seeing such a masterpiece. Oh, and I also saw The Next Three Days, which was really good, but emotional. Much like HP 7. Be warned.

Teens and TSA

Mage of the Week: Graeme Taylor. You may have heard of this brave 14-year-old who gave a heartfelt and eloquent defense of a teacher who was suspended after ejecting two students from his class, ostensibly for expressing anti-gay sentiment. You can quibble as to whether McDowell, the teacher, violated free speech in so doing, but since when has school ever been a place where the law was enforced to the letter? All sorts of extra rules apply in public schools and I say, hey— why are we punishing an authority figure for nonviolently discouraging discrimination? Graeme's speech has really hit home with a lot of people, becoming a viral video. What a courageous act to admit to your own suicide attempt in order to spread awareness at such a young age and in such an intimidating environment. You go, Graeme— bring some magic back into the world.


Accountant of the Week: TSA Airport Security. Full-body scans that show your private parts? I don't know about you, but I feel uncomfortable just knowing I have private parts! I certainly don't need Joe Schmoe seeing my full body scan. And if you opt out, you get a thorough pat-down. Look up videos. Way too intimate for public spaces. Experts are saying this adds unnecessary humiliation, hassle, and fear to the travel atmosphere with hardly any extra security. I can't really picture this girl:

Image courtesy of worldmate.com

stopping a terrorist plot to take over a plane and destroy important buildings, or whatever terrorists normally try to do. Come on TSA and whoever is ultimately responsible for this added "security"— stop letting the terrorists win; if we fear travel, then they really are spreading terror! This is accountant behavior if I have ever seen it. Accountants will say, "If you don't create a 401K plan account monies, then you will be unable to afford food a year after you retire and will subsequently starve to death". Fear-mongers, begone!!

We Blog Bulls Hits... I Mean Web Log Bullshit?

The word "blog" is a blend of the term "web log", which we can assume is an online documentation of....something. What was the original intention of blogs? I realize I could probably Google it, but I think instead I'll ramble about blogs as though any factual information about them is nonexistent.

I just wonder, did Mr. Blog Inventor create the web log concept so that housewives could document every little thing their precious children do? Or was he trying to allow the struggling artists of the world to frenetically populate the internet with their art-children? (I'm not trying to hate; if my family were spread out, I'd love a blog to keep in touch, and I'm following a few artists' blogs because they have some really amazing work showcased there.)

The typical blog example #1:

The Krazinski Four
Following the crazy tribulations of a clan that sticks together through thick and thin!

[About me: You might think I'm just your typical housewife, but I've got the spirit of a warrior- I'm a

Mama Bear through and through! Good thing I've got my husband to help me raise my rambunctious cubs!]

November 2nd 2:45 PM 
Just uploading our Halloween pictures!

(Image courtesy of funny-potato.com)

He was the cutest baby on the block in his little lobster costume and Brian and I had a hard time holding back tears— our baby's first Halloween! He's such a joy and I just thank Jesus every day that He brought Jimmy and Sarah to us. Sarah didn't want her picture taken— she had developed the cutest phobia of cameras, but I do hope it goes away soon— we don't want to keep losing memories!

Until next time, Krazinski out!

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Typical blog example #2:
 
Doodlings of a Traveler
(She doesn't have a subtitle because it's mysterious...and also probably because there was nothing to say)

[About me: Hey folks my name is Lynda but you can call me Windspirit. I'm just trying to get through life, like anybody else. Except I document my travels through this crazy planet we call Earth with pictures! I'm brilliant and unique!!]



November 13, 2010 1:16 AM

Hey guys! Sorry I haven't been posting much lately but I've been so busy and so full of inspiration! Check out these drawings I did in the park last week! Also, a big thank you to all my supporters— I couldn't do this without you! Exclamation marks!

(Image courtesy of thedoodleist.com)

Also- let me add an impromptu poem because my soul bleeds art of every form, especially doodles and poems. I call it: "Butt—Out".


Single butt on the street
         Lying, alone.
Or is it laying?
Out. No fiery tip.  
No more puffs of smoke
    For it.
Asphalt resting place.

Lung cancer.  
10 comments.   Post a comment.  


There are many other types of blogs, such as the Opinionated But Totally Without an Audience blog type, which was not mocked here because I think it's possible my blog falls under that category.
 

Maybe blogs were never intended to catch on. Perhaps Sir Webster Log, famed for his resolution of the Uneven Ratio of Hot Dogs to Hot Dog Buns quandry, once began an online journal to chronicle his brilliant thoughts and deeds, and it was dubbed by fans "Web's Log", which was later shortened to Web Log, which was then amalgamated into blog! So many people were entranced by the exhibitionist idea of posting your inner thoughts for everyone to see that everyone made a Facebook  Twitter  Blogger account!

Or maybe it was W.E.B. Du Bois! No wait...that's just silly.

I guess we'll never know how blogs came to be and why everybody thinks it's a good idea to have one. I mean, I made one because I felt it was my duty to share my brilliance with the world. That's totally justified. Right?

NOTE: Were you offended by this blog post, or do you simply disagree? Send me links to worthwhile blogs that break out of these categories or do them justice! Maybe I'll make a blogger Mage of the Week...
 

Postal

So, how about this football season? Some surprises, eh? And let's not forget scandal- America's sweetheart Brett Favre texting wiener shots to a reporter? Tsk tsk. It was a sad day for all of us.

OK, you know what? I can't do this anymore. I can't keep it a secret any longer. I have to tell the truth!

Internet, I... I am a philosophy major.

Yes, I am an unemployable elitist! I confess!

I tell you this grave secret, Internet, because my brain has been wrung dry. Where once I had thriving, moist brain tissue, now I have dry, crumbling sponge matter. Philosophy has taken my formerly agile mind and bent until it could think no more, and now I am cast down to the status of a normal plebeian.

For those of you who are not philosophy majors or, indeed, have not taken a single philosophy class, let me give you a small demonstration of the mind-bending process described above. It's a little long, but necessary. Just bear with me- there is a picture eventually.

How Philosophy Ate My Brain:

Professor: Now class, Neu describes a tear as an intellectual thing. He goes through various scholars' views on crying and whether it is a cognitive or physiological process. This examination continues through other subjects to get to Neu's root point: expression of emotion is intended as relief.

Peer 1: What about our response to fictional expressions of emotion?

Professor: Excellent point! Neu discusses our responses to acting; our suspension of disbelief when we see a play or movie allows us to feel emotional responses to what we see, but is it the same?

Peer 2: Well, when I see a horror film, I have a reaction—racing pulse, adrenaline—but I do not react like I would if there were actually an axe murderer in the theatre. I don't run away screaming bloody murder.

Professor: Good point. 

Me: Sometimes I don't consider fear an emotion, though.

Professor: Interesting. Why do you say that?

Me: Well, it's a state, sure. I can be in a fearful state, but it seems different from anger or sadness or happiness.

Professor: How so?

Me: Well... I don't know. But if all states are emotions, then practically everything is an expression of emotion! Just talking would be expressing calmness.

Peer 3: Is calmness an emotion?

General murmuring.

Me: I don't know. Is it? Is fear? Is everything an emotion or is nothing an emotion? Is it all just cognitive states? Am I a robot? WHAT AM I? I'm in a swirling eddy of confusion and disorientation! WHY AM I HERE?! WHAT IS MY PURPOSE?! WHO AM I?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

End.

So you see I am now a worthless husk of a human, wandering about the Earth, lost and empty, just a shadow of my former self. All because of these so-called "greats": Descartes, Hume, Kant, Leibniz, Spinoza, Nozick, Rawls, Locke, Plato, Socrates... the list goes on and on and ooonn- strangers! Waiting! Up and down the boulevard! Their shadows searchi—

See? I can't even finish a simple sentence without bursting into random (but awesome) songs. 

^ An illustration of the crisis you will face in a philosophy class. I even gave you a soft example. It's a lot harder to come back from the "Ok, my perceptions of the world are suspect, such as when I see a landsharks in the shadows but really it's just my Appa doll). How can I confirm that the objects in the world I perceive are actually there and are the way I perceive them... Can I? I can't! OH MY GOD I'M A BRAIN IN JAR SOMEWHERE!!!!" breakdowns.

Dear Internet, this is my last will and testament, in preparation for the day philosophy renders me incoherent or puts me into a vegetative state.

I want my fiance to have my money and movies so he doesn't starve to death/ die of boredom. I want my parents to have... well, there's not much left. I guess my best friend can have my clothes. Unless my mom wants to sell them to pay for my tuition. That would be fair. And um.... I want to be cremated. The idea of my blood being pumped out of me to be replaced by preserving fluid so that my corpse can rot slowly under ground creeps me out. I'd rather go out with a bang and be spread all over so the whole country can live in a constant state of mild discomfort, wondering if that bit of dust that just got in their eye was actually my ashes.

Goodbye, world that might not even exist...

Get Educated

Warning: Serious post containing a wealth of opinions ahead! If you want debatably funny material, look at my older posts. I understand I risk losing what little audience I ever had a chance of getting by talking about a sensitive subjects like homophobia and politics but who ever said being honest was easy?

Homophobia. Why is this form of discrimination tolerated in our society and even espoused by our lawmakers? That was a stupid question; it's because people are ignorant and generally idiotic. If they grew up in small, conservative town or in a time when homophobia was the norm, then somehow they convince themselves it's alright to openly express disgust or discomfort with gay people, to oppose same-sex marriage laws.

And one of the worst parts? These people cannot coherently defend their views against criticism. It's an epidemic gripping our country that citizens can neither follow nor form sound arguments, that debates among them quickly reduce to irrational and angry squabbles. In a democratic republic, which is what America is, by the way, the people elect representatives who will—surprise!—represent the interests and beliefs of his/her constituency. If the people cannot tell their heads from their asses, much less distinguish between sound arguments for policies that will benefit the whole country from self-interested, bigoted blustering, then where are we headed? 

I don't like reading fatalistic articles describing how the next, amoral generation will destroy the world, how politicians are all corrupt, and how America is populated solely by obese hyperconsumers who know nothing of their own government. But there's a difference between being overly critical and constructively disappointed. America: step up to the plate. Let's pull our heads out of our collective ass and start thinking with some common sense.

Let me give you a short philosophical lesson, one I think everyone could benefit from learning. It's called the Original Position. A political philosopher named John Rawls described an idealized scenario that would allow people to make decisions befitting a free and just society. It's easy: just step behind an imaginary curtain he called the Veil of Ignorance.

If I could gather 10 politicians in a room and put them behind the Veil of Ignorance, they would not know what race, gender, age, class, occupation, sexuality, or religion they were. They would simply be human beings. And if, while they were safely behind the Veil, I asked them to decide who should be allowed to marry, do you know what would happen? Rawls says, and I agree, that they would all answer, "everyone", because the ignorance of one's own position leads one to choose principles that benefit everyone.

The Original Position is clearly a thought-experiment; we cannot blind politicians or citizens to their own natures (or statuses in society), but we have to just stop and think: wouldn't it be great? Isn't that ideal?

Well, why the hell can't we try? We can. It's called the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. If I were homosexual, I would not want to be made to feel that my nature were unnatural, wrong, or that it made me less deserving of rights than anyone else. But do you know what? nobody gives a shit about what I have to say. And that's okay. We can't hear everyone's voice, but the problem is that even if Arianna Huffington had written this (in a more professional tone, of course), it wouldn't change a damn thing.

And that's human nature for you. If we grew up hearing that elephants are pink, we'll swear that elephants are pink until we're blue in the face, no matter how many grey elephants go marching by.

Sorry to be on a soapbox, but sometimes a diatribe is the only way to dissipate righteous anger. Back to regular programming soon!

Fictional Loves

I have a list of all the fictional men with whom I am in love. I have stopped obsessing over these men since I got a boyfriend who insists on marrying me (party pooper), but they're still there, in the back of my mind. Waiting in the wings for the day that said boyfriend either A- decides that I am foul and he does not want to see my ugly mug ever again, or B- dies. I will give you a brief sample of the list. Don't be intimidated by my vast literary knowledge; if you don't recognize a name, it's because he's from a book far too sophisticated for you to understand, not at all because he's from a teen fantasy novel (<_<).

1. Mr. Darcy (Standard fictional love list fare.)
2. James Potter (Oh-ho. Threw a curve-ball at you there.)
3. Vidanric Renselaeus (You probably have no clue who that is)
4. Anakin Skywalker (I would have turned him from his Dark path...)
5. Nawat Crow (His blind adoration is so wonderful)
6. Rhett Butler (Who needs feminism when there's Rhett Butler?)

Now, these are just the first five that popped into my head. There are thousands more, like Gilbert from Anne of Green Gables, or Calvin from A Wrinkle in Time, Jamie from Outlander, or Alistair from Dragon Age (that one's a video game). So many paragons of masculinity to adore, so little time!

Why do I think about these nonexistent men when I have a real one to love? Well, first off: you say they're nonexistent but you can't prove it, so let's stop the Judgment Train from rolling into Bigot Station. It's needed at its final destination, Skynet Platform. Second- James Potter is never going to love me. In the alternate universe he lives in, he is completely devoted to Lily Evans. So even if I were to travel to this other dimension, there would be no room for me in his heart.

Thus he resides safely in my imagination and can never:

A- Reject me. James would never turn me down, because where would he go? If he steps out of my psyche, he dies, because he my psyche's projection of a fictional character. He only exists in my brain.

B- Fight with me. What would we fight about? We're perfect for each other! He does magic, I love magic! He picks on Slytherins, I hate Slytherins! Match made in... what do wizards believe in? Merlinland? I instinctively want to shorten that to "Merland", but that sounds like Triton's turf.

C- Stop worshiping the ground I walk on. The problem with real, adult men is that they understand adult relationships are about respect and partnership. Thus, my boyfriend finds the idea of worshipping me ridiculous. However, women who were brought up on Disney movies know we can only be truly happy when somehow is devoting 100% of their attention on fawning over us. (PS- Did you know that "worshipped" and "worshipping" can be spelled with one P or two? Fascinating!)

D- Tell me my obsession with fictional characters is unhealthy. I think that one speaks for itself.

All the ladies out there- don't be ashamed to still love fictional characters! Daydream all you want! Don't let your boyfriend make you think you're silly or that you're mind-cheating! It's a way to figure out what you do and don't like in a guy. It will help you develop a litmus test for future boyfriends or, if you're stuck with the guy forever, figure out exactly why you don't like them. This can be helpful for better conflict resolution.

Marital conflict without a solid fictional love list:

Husband: I don't understand what you're bitchin' about. I made dinner, didn't I?

Wife: Yes, but only after I asked you to and complained about it!

Husband: Oh, so you didn't really want me to make dinner, you just wanted to whine about it?

Wife (hysterical): I wanted you to do it WITHOUT ME ASKING! You never think about me and all you do is watch football and eat Vienna Sausage on the couch and Mary's husband makes her candles with romantic food lit!! Waaahhhhhh....

Husband (confused and irate): Woman, you be crazy! Don't take your "lady-time troubles" out on me!

Husband stomps away to guzzle beer and grumble, "Unbelievable!" to himself over and over.

The fight ends with silence, tension, and zero conflict resolution. Now, let's see how this would have played out if the wife had devoted a portion of her time to fawning over nonexistent men:

Husband: I don't understand what you're bitchin' about. I made dinner, didn't I?

Wife: I just think that you want credit for being thoughtful and nice for making dinner, when you only did it after repeated complaints. You're only trying to placate me. Sometimes, a woman needs pampering, to feel like her man wants to make her the happiest woman alive, because she makes him happy just by existing.

Husband (stunned by the eloquence of this speech): Uh...yeah. I guess you're right, honey. I'll try harder.

Wife: Oh, thank you, snookums.

They smooch and are 100% happy.

There you have it! You will no longer be an emotional cesspool of fermenting irrationality, ranting angrily about foot massages and being generally ineffective.

Once again— you're welcome. If you need recommendations for characters to obsess over, I am a multimedia encyclopedia. I've got movie, TV, books, cartoons, comics... characters from all walks of media!

Horrible Movie Adaptations

I accept that you can only get so close to a book with a movie adaptation, but why bother to translate something if you are going to turn ABCDEFG into 3894738? Just make it a whole different movie. It actually makes me sad to watch Ella Enchanted. It was one of my favorite childhood books, filled with magic and love, and the movie makes it into some horrid teenybopper drama filled with stereotypes, horrible acting, a laughable script, and...well, I could go on for a while. They even managed to make Anne Hathaway look kind of thick around the middle!

I'll get off my high horse now... No, I won't, actually. But they turned a heartwarming adaptation of Cinderella and completely eradicated all resemblance to the book. Boo them.

My idea of how the script-writing went:

Head Screenwriter: All right, guys. We need to get down to business. That's why I brought this 12-pack of Bud Light!

Cheers go around the round table.

Minion Screenwriters: Yaaayyy!

Two hours later...

Head Asshat Screenwriter: Guyth... I haf thish great eye... Idear. What if the printh- princccee- was lyke...really hot? No, I me- hic- mean, lyke shuper hot? And Emma-

Minion Screenwriter: You mean Ella, thir?

Much giggling ensues

Head Tosspot Screenwriter: Yeah, her. Thanksh, Wimbleby. Eller doesn' like him, though. (Here he starts to whisper conspiratorially) She- hic- she thinks he's a bad printh. Baaadd printh. And then they shing a Queen shong!

Minion Screenwriters: Brilliant! Huzzah! Triumph!

THE END

And that is the tale of how the horror of Ella Enchanted, the feature film, came to be. Maybe one day Peter Jackson will direct a faithful adaptation. After filming The Hobbit, of course.

How that screenplay brainstorm would go:

Peter Jackson: I want this done right. No matter the time and energy it takes, the people deserve a faithful adaptation of this beloved children's novel, brimming with rich themes, lovable characters, and a thrilling and compelling plot.

Head Screenwriter: Yes, sir! You can count on us, sir!

Assistant Screenwriters salute. Everyone working on a Peter Jackson film is too respectable to be a minion.

Assistant Screenwriter: I think we should make it more relatable (screw you spell check that's a word!) to kids nowadays. This quiet disobedience Ella has going on might be too subtle for the Red Bull generation to pick up on. I was thinking-

Head Screenwriter decapitates this jerk-off Assistant Screenwriter with a katana he pulls from his coat. After the Assistant Screenwriter's head stops rolling, the Head Hero Screenwriter impales the Assistant's body with a flag. A flag of Peter Jackson.

Head Savior of the Entertainment Industry Screenwriter: Anybody else got any wise ideas of diminishing this masterpiece of fiction?


Assistant Screenwriters sagely shake their heads.

THE END


I gotta give it to them, though. I love me some Queen and that was a nice rendition of "Somebody to Love". And Hugh Dancy is awesome. Other than that- NO redeeming value!

If I hadn't already done Accountant of the Week, I would make Tommy O'Haver and Laurie Craig and everyone else who worked on Ella Enchanted Accountants of All Time. For shame.

I now realize this post wasn't very funny. Here's a joke:

Q: Why was Helen Keller a bad driver?
A: Because she's a woman!

You weren't expecting that, were you? That's why it's funny. Now this post was funny and therefore worthwhile. You're welcome.

PS- Wow. I'm being really productive with this here blog thingy. Now if only there were people to read it...

If I Were a Wizard...

1. I'd be ecstatic.

2. I wouldn't call myself a witch. I'd be a wizard or a mage. Remember, I reserve the right to genderalize. Plus, witch is an angry-sounding word.

3. I'd found Boarmeasles School Of Wizardry. Or maybe I'd establish Bar Valon (I'm sure Robert Jordan, may he rest in peace, would love his White Tower to become Blackout Tower, which has spray fountains of vodka). I would then send myself my own acceptance letter to Boarmeasles School of Wizardry and cry with happiness at this fulfillment of childhood dreams.

4. I would open up a wizarding furniture shop on the side. You never see wizards doing mundane things like making furniture in books and movies but they need it, too! And if you're living in a Snuggle-phobic or Snuggle-ignorant society (Snuggles are non-magical folk, of course), then you need to get your furniture in a Snuggle-free area. Hence, the Enchanted Chaise store. Get all your supernaturally comfortable couches and supreme storage devices at Enchanted Chaise, where the employees are charming and the prices are so low you'll think it's voodoo!

5. I'd never get up again. I would use the Force my magic wand my magic staff my telekinesis my magical levitation powers, however the hell I would implement them, to summon my things to me. Sitting on my couch, watching WET (Wizarding Entertainment Television), I would call a Snuggie to me (not to be confused with Snuggle), food, beverage, books, deodorant, everything! I would use my magic powers to stay clean and I could just relieve myself right where I sat and simply vanish the mess away!

6. I'd figure out how magic actually works (does it violate principles of physics as Snuggles know them? Can they create food or substance? If so, can anyone be poor? What can it do and what can't it?) and I would then write a fantasy series that includes these technical details. People would be so impressed that there are no plausibility issues in my incarnation of magic that it would quickly become a bestseller and my fantasy world would soon surpass Middle Earth in popularity of references.

7. I would make myself a better singer and artist.

8. I would not do any humanitarian work of any kind. In the wizarding world, we believe Snuggles must handle their own affairs, else our help would hamstring them, leaving them incapable of doing the tiniest tasks on their own. It's really in their best interest.

9. I would make a soundtrack for my life. I would charm music to play around me at least 60% of the time, adding dramatic, comedic, romantic, and/or epic effect to my life. This would have the by-product effect of making me at least 6000% more popular.

10. I would eradicate pants. No more pants to hinder our daily lives! BE FREE OF THE PANTS OPPRESSION! The articles-of-clothing-which-shall-not-be-named are truly a blight on our world.

I anticipate this list will grow. Maybe it will be a 100-part installment.

Rockapella is Going to Need to Compose a New Theme Song

Where in the World is Carmen Sandiago? We all know it, we all love it. But let's face it, we need a new version: Where in My Town Are Useful Places and How Can I Get There?

Maybe children need to be educated about geography and world culture, but I am still lamentably ignorant about both topics and would have liked a more practical education. I'm talking about when I got my license and suddenly realized...where the f*ck is everything? I could get to school. I knew where the nearest grocery store was. And my bank. I knew intellectually where my church was but still got sweaty palms (and armpits) driving there on my own the first two or three...or fifteen times.

Suddenly I need to run errands, give blood, go to the doctor's new office, find a car dealership to get my car inspected. I don't know where these things are and my incredibly nervous, anal self comes perilously close to imploding when these completely unknown, uncontrollable situations pop up. And pop up they do. In spades. For instance:

I'm driving down a busy highway in a hurtling mass of steel, surrounded by complete morons, who are, by the way, also in hurtling masses of steel, having no idea where I am. Of course, I have looked up directions, but that is no replacement for the experience of actually driving there. I am hunched over my steering wheel with the AC pounding on my face despite the fact that it's a comfortable 70 degrees outside because I am a nervous sweater (haha that looks like I'm a sweater...like a cardigan. But what I meant was that I sweat when nervous. It's punny) and I can't look at all the buildings and street signs when I have to make sure Mr. Drives-an-SUV-on-steriods-while-talking-on-his-cell-phone-and-drinking-coffee isn't going to annihilate me. And then there's the lane-changing situation. I have to be in the correct lane as soon as humanly possible. Correct lane = the lane I have to eventually be in. If I have to turn left in 8 miles, I have to be in the lefternmost lane that doesn't end before my turn this very instant. If I am not in the correct lane the first second that it is conceivably possible for me to be in it, then my eye twitches, I am reckless in my need to get into the correct lane, and I think I build up an aneurysm. I'm pretty sure you can't actually do that, but it sure feels like it. Like I'm logging brain stress time and when I get to 50 hours, I'll receive a complimentary aneurysm.

Then what if someone says, "Hey, let's go to Wendy's," and I don't know where one is in this part of town? My pupils shrink in fear and anxiety.

"Is there one around here?" I ask casually. Please God let us have to drive six miles the way we came to go to the Wendy's near my house. Six miles of traffic is kind of a big deal in a mid-sized city.

"Yeah, just down 17 on the right," he replies. I grimace smile to let him know I'm on board with the Wendy's plan but I'm thinking what lane do I need to be in? I've never gone into a store on 17 in this direction. Is this lane turn only at the next stoplight? Shit! I have to change lanes RIGHT EFFING NOW OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO CRASH AND DIE IT'S SO HARD TO TURN JUST MY HEAD AND NOT MY BODY!!! And then there's the searching for the Wendy's, which is inevitably a ninja until the last possible second when Spawn of Satan Who Wanted Us To Go To Foreign Wendy's suddenly says, "Yeah it's right here. Turn right there." And I do a 90 degree turn into this Wendy's and then, after all this, I have to dangle half my body out of the car window to reach my food because I was so afraid of being too close to the Drive-Thru window that I parked approximately a mile away from it.

If I had had Where in My Town Are Useful Places and How Can I Get There?, then I would have had a driving simulator to show me how to get to any business, house, road, or school in town and I could pretend drive there hundreds of times before actually driving there! Then I could be 60% relaxed on a first-time excursion, instead of 0% relaxed.

I could also learn about what times businesses are open, how friendly their customer service is, and how pricey they are, but only with the Deluxe Edition! And I could be tipped off about tricky driving maneuvers, such as unanticipated speed limit reductions, hidden turns, gravel roads, and those weird side roads for people who want to stop in shops and not go fast which I know have a specific name but I can't remember it.

God, what a great idea. Someone should get on that. MapQuest meets Google Earth meets the General Internet, and More! If only this had been around three years ago...

Allie Brosh- Time to Celebrate! And Then Commiserate.

Mage of the week: Allie Brosh. Her blog, Hyperbole and a Half, is filled with magical treasures that brighten your day instantly. I recently read the whole thing and it inspired me to start my own.

Accountant of the week: Allie Brosh. Her blog, Hyperbole and a Half, is filled with magical treasures that brighten your day instantly. I recently read the whole thing and it inspired me to start my own. THANKS A FREAKING LOT, ALLIE! Not only did you steal my name, you have already set a standard I can't possibly meet. NOT TO MENTION, I have a paper due Friday that I am writing this dumb post instead of doing. You're ruining my college career.

I bet Ms. Brosh never knew her humorous, MS comic-filled blog would be so controversial.

Hm? What's that, you say? You're unclear as to why, exactly, I have decided to start a mage of the week/accountant of the week announcement? Well, you see. I think of myself as very important. Therefore, I feel it is my duty to share some of my importance with littler people than myself. I do that by awarding people who do interesting, cool, beneficial, amazing, etc... things and punishing those who do mundane, evil, prosaic, mean, detrimental, etc... things.

Mage = good.

Accountant = bad.

What does this mean for Accountant-Mages, like the one your blog is named after? Oh, dear imaginary reader. If I explained my title now, why would you ever come back and read more? I have to maintain an aura of mystery. So, tune in whenever it is I'll be posting my next blog for... THE HIDDEN DANGER IN THE THINGS/ACTIVITIES THAT PEOPLE COMMONLY TOUCH/EAT/DO THAT COULD KILL YOU, YOUR LOVED ONES, AND DEMOCRACY. AND PUPPIES.

Introduction to... Probably No One

What is this blog about? Good question. Only time will tell, I suppose. What are the chances anyone will actually read this and that I will actually stand out among thousands (millions?) of bloggers in the world? Almost none, but at least it's practice for when I write that bestselling novel, eh?

This leads me to my first topic of discussion: self-deception.

I have an amazing capacity for it, as I'm sure about 100% of half of the world does. But Allie, I hear you ask. What ever do you mean by self-deception? An excellent question, good sir! Or ma'am. No. I'm sticking with sir. I find it perfectly acceptable to genderalize. It simplifies everyone's lives. Hm? A definition of self-deception! Of course. Well, I will define it intensionally (what is the essence of self-deception) and extensionally (what things are included under self-deception).

Self-deception is the ability to fool our own minds or convince ourselves that a thought, decision, or action is original to ourselves, rational, or awesome.

Now, for the fun part of the definition: categories.


Rationalization 

Our nation's past-time. You know it well. Yes, you. Don't deny it. Convincing yourself that you should buy the purse because it's on sale and, honestly, you haven't bought a purse in four months so it's about damn time for a new one. That drunken one-night stand was about making yourself feel wanted and having some fun. It didn't matter at all that your ex was there, looking jealous.

Ex. 1:

"Hey Doug, what up?"

"Ay yo, Kev!" (Notice Doug did not answer Kev's question, which was dubious at best. But that's a topic for another post).

"You gonna be in Econ this afternoon?"

"Nah man, I'm gonna take a nap. That party last night was fierce! I'm still f__ed up! But I've got a B and she posts the PowerPoints online, so I don't need to go anyway."

Doug had clearly decided to skip class because he's tired, but then uses retroactive logic to justify his decision! Classic self-deception.


Denial

Your Thoughts: Nobody in class knows I just farted. It was totally quiet. And it probably doesn't smell because I haven't had Mexican food in like...six hours. They all just think my Frank Zappa shirt is awesome and slightly retro, which is double awesome.

Everyone Else's Thoughts: That dude just made this class into Hiroshima!

You are clearly lying to yourself about the obvious to protect your fragile ego. The sad thing is, if you had just laughed when you had lit one off, the asshats who were just judging your anal salute would probably have fist-bumped you and the girls would have rolled their eyes but secretly thought this male ritual was manly and attractive in a sick way. So you're losing out here by deceiving yourself.

Confirmation Bias

This is called being a Republican. Or a Democrat. Or a human, really. It's this fascinating phenomenon where... oh, I see my nonexistent readers are dozing off. Well, wake up, philistines! This shit is interesting! It's just the tendency to ignore information that contradicts your beliefs and seek out that which confirms them. Like when someone comes up to me and says "Harry Potter is juvenile and way over-hyped," I say, "You're just a jerk who enjoys killing babies and hope." When someone says, "I can't WAIT for HP 7," I say, "Blap blap!" because it makes me feel cool and shows my excitement.

This is self-deception because it is conditioning your brain to think false (or potentially false) things! It rewards your brain with positive reinforcement when you find data that supports your preconceived notions ("I knew I was right for thinking Bush was an idiot. Because I'm a freaking genius!") and ignoring that which contradicts it. This is a dangerous and subtle phenomenon because much of it is unconscious. That means you're lying to yourself. Without. Even. Knowing.

Think about that for a while.

In conclusion: this blog post was pointless and I have no idea what I'm doing here.

That's a lie. I was lying to myself. I do know what I'm doing here. I'm here to put in minimal effort so I don't get my hopes up about one day winning the Interwebz, but to somehow win the Internetz anyway because I'm so amazing I won't even have to try. Phew. Overcoming this self-deception thing is hard. And embarrassing. Until next time, Internet!