Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Manic Pixie Dream Girl

Webster's Dictionary defines the Manic Pixie Dream Girl as a specimen of the female genome generally ranging between the ages of 15-29, who participates in socially unique behavioral customs such as dreamy doe eyed optimism, insatiable curiosity for the absolutely banal, bouts of magical whimsy, unattainable relationship status, quirky colored hair pigment that constantly changes in design, a deep emotional attachment to bands you've never heard of, and the inability to be on time to any event ever.

 (I should clarify that "Webster's Dictionary" is a collection of legal pad pages on which I make up things about things and write them down in crayon and magazine letter cutouts and have named Webster. I also apply Lisa Frank stickers of dogs riding skateboards wearing sunglasses wherever necessary)

                                                         (They're necessary a lot.)

Manic Pixie Dream Girls are not new news, but in fact have existed for centuries in both literary, cinematic, and IRL status. Let's take a look at some of the most well known of those button nosed, batshit crazy lil buckets. I'll refer to them as MPDG's for the rest of the post.

1. Juliet (Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare)

 Arguably literature's first Manic Pixie Dream Girl, Juliet really went balls to the walls when it came to living (and dying) up to her MPDG title. Love at first sight is as common as the cold for these girls. Srsly, give her an emo'd out jobless loser (Romeo) and you might as well have hit the self destruct button in her brain. And of course she friendzones Paris, the guy that has his shit together and is actually deserving of her.

Friendzoning (see footnote) is a common phenomenon amongst the MPDG's, a weapon they use often and without pity.

2. Clarisse (Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury)

The very first time we're introduced to Clarisse in the book, Guy Montag asks her how old she is and she whimsically replies, "I'm seventeen and I'm crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane." Yeah...that's a major MPDG red flag right there.

A lot of the rhetoric that spews forth from a MPDG will cause a knee jerk "Seriously, what the fuck are you talking about" reaction. One might even think drugs had something to do with it, but don't be mistaken, these girls are just high on the dangerous amounts of quirky radness they embody.

Clarisse goes on throughout the book to babble about how good the rain tastes, and totally mind rapes Guy Montag with that most generic and ethereal of MPDG inquistions... "Are you happy?"

                            (And then she gets her capricious ass hit by a car. Typical.)

3.Bella (Twilight by Stephanie Meyer)

Ugh...the Worst. I can't even....Just...No.

4. Kirsten Dunst (Every Movie She's Been In Ever)

This is in an interesting one because not only is Kirsten Dunst consistently portraying an MPDG on film, but I'm pretty sure that's just who she is IRL. That's why she's so good at it. Let's review her rolodex shall we: friendzones Peter Parker but totally hits it when he's Spiderman as Mary Jane, the title The Virgin Suicides speaks for itself, she dances on a bed in her undies, high as pie, and also friendzones Mark Ruffalo in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Elizabethtown, Crazy/Beautiful, Marie Antoinette, MelancholiaTHEY'REALLTHESAMECHARACTER, this whimsical, unattainable, pretty creature that you're not sure if you want to make sex to or study for science!

(Don't be fooled: The clothing choices of a true MPDG are meticulous. It took hours for her to pick out which shirt to not wear a bra under, and which granny panties were weird, but not weird enough for you to lose your boner)

5. Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind)

Says the following:

"Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a fucked-up girl who's lookin' for my own peace of mind; don't assign me yours."

This should be the anthem of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. As rehearsed and fake as it is, it really rings true to the core of the problem.What's so very sad about this certain type of girl is that the reason she exists, in all her flawed glory, is because guys want her to. Guys want this type of girl, so that's what a faction of girls became. She's the alternative to whatever the "norm" and whatever the "abnormal" is. She's right in between, and the reason she's so messed up is because she didn't define herself for herself, she defined herself for other people, stupid adolescent guys specifically.

But there's hope...while the following girls still have a tinge of MPDG to them, there's a meatier interior that makes me think humanity might not be lost if this is the trend of what girls aspire to be.

The Anti-MPDG League

1. Katniss (The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins)

Badass with a bow and arrow, provides single handedly for her fam, and even though she's got a little weird MPDG love triangle goin on, she deals with cold harsh realities (fictional...realities) when it comes to love and responsibility to ones partner. Very high five.

2. Hermione (Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling)

Girl can weild a book and drop some serious knowledge like nobody's biznass. Plus, she totally could have hit it with HP, but she sidestepped that emotional landmine and married the dependable ginger. Good on ya, Herm.

3. Any Ethnic Disney Princess

If I've ever seen a case of reverse racism it's right here. Seriously? Mulan, Pocahontas, and Jasmine all get to be bad ass bitches with their military training, hunting and nature skills, and tiger wrangling abilities and the white girls get...what? singing like angels to woodland creatures?!?! Because THAT'S really gonna help us in the zombie apocalypse. Total rip off. Not to mention Lilo gets to shred some serious gnar (surfing), and Rapunzel gets to...wait, what does she do? Oh that's right BRUSH HER LONG ASS HAIR. Unbelievable.

(although I did just watch Brave, and being super pale and Irish with an affinity for archery....I'm actually pretty content Disney-wise.)

So that's where we're at. It was the not-so-best of times. It was the not-so-worst of times.


*Friendzoning- the act of metaphorically chopping a dudes wang off and keeping it in a jar on her mantle. He sticks around in the hopes that one day she'll realize what an awesome dude to her he's been. She wants him around because he does awesome stuff for her and she's pretty sure he knows it's never gonna happen between them because she's way not into it, so why broach the subject right? Neither party is honest about their feelings and both are incredibly stupid for participating in such idiotic behaviour.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

A Housewife's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse

NOTE: this might read a little weird because it's actually a sketch I wrote. For optimal effect picture it as a commercial done in a crackly sepia tone. Everything in italics is stage directions. I thought it'd be funny to contrast the horror of a zombie apocalypse with the bizarre concentration on inconsequential details that 50's housewives embodied. So that's what this is. Enjoy. Or don't. I DON'T EVEN CARE! Just kidding, I hope you like it.

                       A Housewife's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse

(Leave it to Beaver music plays and fades out as a woman dressed like a 50's housewife comes out, very over the top 50's informercialesque)

Hi there, I'm Becky Sue Turner, and I'll be giving you helpful housewife tips on surviving the impending zombie apocalypse with a style and flair that only forward thinking women like us can handle. Well, that's if our husband's will allow it (she winks)

(a screaming girl on fire runs across the stage)

Jeepers! It sure is hot out here isn't it? That's due to the city collapsing in flame and widespread panic and pandemonium (she laughs charmingly). Let's take this shindig inside, afterall, most of your housewifely apocalypse duties will take place in your home or makeshift shelter. Before you go in grab a couple of dead non zombie corpses to take in with you. They should be easy to find and believe me, you will be grateful you did it later!

(she walks in the house)

The first and most obvious thing you should be tending to is the location of your husband and child (lights up on husband and Timmy, playing chess as in a still life painting). Once you find them cut open the corpses you've found and slather that carcass all over your bodies (they do). You see, the smell of death will let those mean old zombies pass right by you (an oven ding sound) Op! But don't forget that fresh baked pie! Not only will the zombies pass right by the smell of food but your family will enjoy the hearty treat!

Next, it's time become affiliated with your weapondry. (She grabs a Marlin .44 Magnum for herself as well as a small pistol) Most ladies of the house rightly leave this job to their husband, but duty calls in dire circumstances and on this day of the living dead even little Timmy gets a weapon! (she hands Timmy the pistol)

Timmy: Gee thanks Mom!

Housewife: You're welcome Timmy!

Since you are the perfect housewife and mother, you obviously have a stocked General Electric dual doored refrigerator with the Easy Shield backup generator (an ooooh from the studio audience)I know!

There should be no need to ransack any of your neighbors houses for at least a few weeks. But since you are so well prepared be warned, this makes you a target for any underprepared neighbors who just didn't have your good sense or style (we see a woman in ragged clothes and a knife trying to sneak in) And if they do try to enter your home (sees the woman, blows her away) what a wonderful opportunity to show that bitch Tammy and her award winning garden that YOU are in fact, the perfect housewife, and she's well, zombie quiche! (the family laughs, they find this hilarious)

                                                            (Mmmmmmm! Quiche!)

Now that you're fortified in your home with plenty of food it's time to fill up that bathtub with water. This is for when the town is falling to shambles and water to everyone that is still alive gets cut off and millions suffer from dehydration. Talk about a not-so-wet blanket! (She laughs again, a little longer and more menacing this time)

(We hear a little girl zombie moan and come onstage, she starts eating what is left of Tammy, the neighbor)

(the housewife gasps as if a guest for dinner has just rang the doorbell)

What a treat! I hear our first zombie! (She goes to the door grabs her gun ready to shoot, opens it, and sees it's a little girl. If it wasn't for her rotting flesh, she'd be downright adorable.)

Awwww, it's just a wittle fing! (looks back at her son throwing a ball up and down, bored as hell, looks back at the zombie)

When the correct opportunity arises it's important to think about the other aspects of life that will keep your family healthy and happy. Like enterainment. Timmy sure would get bored after awhile without a playmate, and take note that zombie children are much more docile than their adult counterparts. (takes a severed arm and plays fetch with the girl zombie)

Go get it! See? What a little darling. Zombie children can be hours of fun for your little one if imprisoned properly.

(throughout the next set of dialogue Timmy is playing with the zombie girl who is now on a leash being held by the mother. He plays keep away with various body parts he found outside from Tammy and then "tag")

You'll need a good strong collar and leash, plenty of body parts as treats, and a firm set of ground rules for Timmy, Tommy, or Little Johnny. He needs to know that having a zombie is a huge responsibility and that if he doesn't give it constant attention and clean up after it, well then you just might loosen that leash! (She does, the zombie lunges forward at Timmy and he screams and darts away)

(mother and father laugh hysterically)

Housewife and Father: Ohhhhh Timmy.

(Timmy laughs nervously)

(they go back to playing. A 50's love song plays. Father starts teaching Timmy how to waltz with his pet zombie...he and the zombie start to make googly eyes at each other, granted that she still pulling against the leash that Father is holding, trying to bite Timmy. Nevertheless, a look of love in both their eyes)

Do remember that a zombie pet can't last forever. Eventually as he crosses into manhood, Little Timmy will get those all too natural urges, and with you and his pet zombie as the only "females" around...well, you can imagine the kind of rock and hard place that puts you in. (while Timmy is distracted she takes the pet zombie out back, puts a gun to the back of her head while the zombie is busy eating a treat)

If you have any reservations about going through with this particular extermination because you've become attached to your pet zombie, just remember, the perfect housewife is only as good as the years of denial she's trained herself to be happy in (bang).

The last and most important thing you must remember as a housewife during the zombie apocalypse is to stay calm. Nothing will kill you and your family quicker than nerves and jitters! So sit back, relax, and wait for the world to end and then start all over again. Because I can guarantee, when it's time to rebuild humanity out of the broken shambles it will become, it's going to be up to you as a woman to do all of the work, and then give all of the credit to your alcoholic husband who's been banging corpses whenever he thought you weren't looking (she looks back at her clearly intoxicated husband, who is humping Tammy's corpse and giving his wife a thumbs up. She raises her eyebrows in disdain, looks back at the audience and gives a half hearted thumbs up in response)

Happy Apocalypse! Join us next time for helpful tips in a segment called Starting Over: Life After the Apocalypse While Going through Menopause. I'm Becky Sue Turner, let's kill some bitches.

(Leave it to Beaver music fades out)

Thursday, June 21, 2012

The Anti-Writer Writer

I am not a writer. Contrary to the words you are seeing on this page, the fact of the matter is, I have no business here. Or in any literary writing circle for that matter. I hold a deep, and I mean DEEP, almost religious regard for writers and the sanctity of the written word. So why would I fuck with it so relentlessly? you may ask...and the answer is...because I need to fail. I need to write in an environment where I can truly, wholeheartedly FAIL. Because, dear reader, as I have a sneaking suspicion there's only one of you...failing is the only way you begin to get better at things, and then eventually get good at them. I truly believe this and I've come, as an adult, to relish in my failures. You have no idea how empowering failure can be. See it as stepping stones leading to that promised land of your hopes and fanboy (or fangirl, we're equal opportunity here) dreams.

I belong to a professional (meaning I get paid for it, not that I'm actually great or even good at it) sketch comedy group and something that is encouraged among us is to write sketches for which a few hundred people a week will pay to watch. Nothing introduces you to failure like the prospect of a few hundred people NOT laughing at the shit you find hilarious. Oh I'm sorry Mr. Babies Pooping on Animals Isn't Funny Enough For Me. You can just pick up your Too Good For Me Stick at the door and bid me a fuckin adieu.

                               (Hilarious Baby Poops on Hilarious Dog in 3....2....ComicGold1)

I honestly don't know what a Too Good For Me Stick entails, but it does not bode well in my mind.
(maybe a candy cane of sorts? cuz it's all into itself but it's also just a stick, ya know? and you're like god, get over yourself candy cane, we get it already.)

As I attempted the foolish endeavor of writing sketches that real live people will watch, a question entered my mind and then continued to, respectively, blow it. Truth shrapnel...just... everywhere.

How do comedy writers do it? And I mean the weekly basis wheelhouse of shows that are on such tight production schedules that those actors don't see their families for months at a time. I always hear, or read, stories about writers being at work til 4am. That's such a writer clock out time I always hear. 4am. And it strikes me as odd. Not quite midnight, not quite dawn. Just riding in between. A big middle finger to the convention of sleep cycles. Seriously, read Bossypants by Tina Fey or Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? by Mindy Kaling. Not only are those books the absolute tits to begin with, they totally back me up on the 4am thing. Anyways, seriously, how do they do it??? The sheer volume of hilarity and brilliance? I mean I know sleep deprivation goes a long way in comedy, but that can't be all. That can't be the key. These people literally have a constant set of jokes, and scenarios, and willy nilly scenes they can just pull out of their bumholes at a moments notice.

                                          (Lesson #1 in Not Being a Douche: Buy This Book)

                                                  (But seriously? Also buy this one too.)

It causes me copious amounts of chagrin (Jesus, I hate that word but whoopty friggin doo if I'm not gonna go ahead and use it anyway) to think the obvious answer: These writers spend years and years and years of their life devoted to an art form that has shaped the way they think of things and causes them to be better equipped than your dumb ass (or our dumb asses, to be more precise) to come up with jokes and interesting stories at a moments notice. But THAT...I fear...is the absolute truth. There is no magic about these writers. Yes, they all have talent, else they wouldn't be getting paid a ridick amount of money to do they job they are doing, BUT I would be willing to bet something they have a lot more of than talent is really bitchin work ethic.

I have bitchin work ethic. I do. I honestly think that's the majority of the reason I could be deemed as somewhat successful at what I do. Or I guess, what my definition of successful is. I make barely enough to get by, but I do it by doing what I absolutely love. So it's important to realize that there are straight up Choices to be made in your life (yeah, I capitalized that C, you wanna fight about it?).

There's a possibilty that I was born a shark eyed stock market broker and I could be breaking a mil this year or whatever the crap rich people say. The fact is, I chose the ideal, the dream. I'm that poor kid that's stupid excited about her mud pies and playing pretend. And you're like "damn, that kid is crazy" and maybe she is....maybe she is....but man is she happy.

Quid pro ...crow? That can't be right. Visa vie...jesus, curse Google for being unavailable in my time of need! THE POINT IS...I just need to work harder ...and longer...at writing. And then I won't suck so much at it.



Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Alternate Universe Dinosaurs & Other Irrational Fears

I have a lot of irrational fears, one of which is waking up in an alternate universe in which a dinosaur (T-rex to be precise) rips the roof off my house and proceeds to kill me, gruesome dinosaur-style. This actually keeps me awake at night. Yes, it makes no sense, and I'm a little nervous to put the rest of my irrational fears to electronic papyrus because then you'll realize what a true and vigilant weirdo I am... but eff it, nah mean? Here goes cray cray:

- Toilet snakes. Srsly. It could happen. And I'm not gonna say I don't look down every five seconds into the bowl like a black ops scout when I'm doin ma business...because then I would be lying. That's exactly what I do.

- Ninjas. Accidentally pissing off a ninja would be the living WORST. At the end of each day I scan my brain for people I may have offended in the last 24 hours and rank them by seeming agility and continue to debate the likelihood of their ninja treehouse membership and my imminent demise via their katana.

- Strangers throwing acid in my face. If you have a cup and are walking toward me and I don't know you, you should know I'm having a silent war with myself about what the best ways to kill you are before aforementioned acid is thrown in my face. ampm cup enthusiasts beware.

(Two Face is a prime example of why you should always be wary of potential assholes with potential cups of acid)

-Zombie Apocalypse. My fascination and fear of this subject causes crazy ass nightmares on a fairly consistent basis. Although here's a fun little factoid, when you're having bad ass fighting dreams and you're bashing in some serious zombie mind grapes or doing feats of any genre of awesome, your muscles are actually learning the memory of those movements, so in reality you are more attuned to performing those actions. Sleep training FTW.

-That awkward moment when you're about to smush a spider with a napkin but then pussy out, because what if you miss and just piss it off and it's fast and bites the shit out of you and you die. Yeah, that awkward moment. I'm afraid of that.

                                                (Scared Yao meme knows what I'm talkin' about)

Share your own irrational fears in the comments. And then go high five a million angels.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

How Much Is Much Too Much?

Hey remember when I talk about nonsensical things that vaguely refer to pop culture and have no real importance concerning politics, the environment, or human emotions? Well...this is not that post. But it kind of still is because...hey, I can only get so deep. THAT'S WHAT HE SAID.

Oh god...I've already gone awry.

Ok so...in my previous post I told you about a mommyblogger site (yes I read mommyblogger sites, 2 in fact. And 1) yes, I know I'm not of the maternal-spit-a-7-pound-human-out-of-my-hoohah persuasion and 2) my racy In Your Face (lolz) Shenanigans does not lend itself to what one might think is common ground for said Mother types. But to that I say NAY! fellow internet goer(s). We're all people reaching out to other people. I'm not sure what that means but hopefully it makes my point.

Jesus, I really got off track there. SO, one of the mommyblogger sites I read is Dooce.com and I go there for the reassurance that I could in fact be a mother one day because this beezy finds the same hilarious things about tiny humans that I find hilarious, like how adorably stupid they are, and how they're just like tiny drunk frat boys in that they vomit constantly, can't walk a straight line if they're bah bah depended on it, and that they will never call you back the next day. They've got hand-eye coordination to master before that goes down. I really like this lady. She makes me high five my computer on a fairly consistent basis, costing a lot in computer repair but simultaneously making it totally worth it.

She's going through a trial separation in her seemingly perfect marriage with her seemingly perfect husband. She has a history of mental illness and recently posted about suicidal thoughts while having full overseeing responsibility of her children, while her husband stays elsewhere. How the hell do I know all of this? Because she wrote about it. So did her husband in his own blog. Why I care is another issue altogether but it brings me to a very important question that I just can't get out of my head...how much information is too goddamn much information? I really like this woman's musings but now I'm thinking about the safety of her kids? That's weird. And just super duper the most inappropriate thing ever since I will never meet this woman.

It's weird to think that someone's blog can launch them into the kind of life that celebrities have in terms of paparazzi and invasion of privacy and all that gobblety gook. But in all honesty, they are the ones who put themselves out there... to be loved, to be judged, to be worshiped, and to be hated.

I guess I just want people to be aware that whether it's livejournal or blogger or 9gag or facebook posts, people do in fact watch you, what you do, who you are, what you say and they WILL have an opinion about it. It seems so safe because we do it from our own homes and it feels like only our group of friends will be the ones that care enough to read or watch or reply, but that's just bootsy. Everyone has access to those thoughts and feelings and potentially embarrassing fuck ups if it's on the internet. At least until SOPA shuts our shit down. Ugh...then we'll have to actually interface with each other. And I for one, am really not looking forward to that. Human connection? BARF SAUCE.

Speaking of too much information here's a picture of me naked:

                                                (Awwww SOPA....you gone done it again!)

Of course I didn't post a picture of me naked. What the hells the matter with you?


Friday, January 6, 2012

The Obligatory New Years Post??

Oh hey look it's a new year. Cooooool.

If you can't hear my lackluster feelings towards the true meaning of "New Year" beating the bee juices out of you well...I just...I can't help you.

But then I think "cmon Brittni, are you saying this because you really don't believe the beginning of a new year is a metaphorical fresh start for those who want to better their lives in the coming months, OR are you just lazy as shit and know you have no intention of regimenting any sort of behavior that is deemed "unsanitary" or "harmful to children" or "better for your health in the long run." And the answer is...the second one.

Here's the thing. I kind of really like where I'm at in life. I don't hate my body, I like all my friends, my boyfriend is a really bitchin nerd mate and I want to make sweet sweet love to my job. So I kind of just want to give a big middle Flight of the Conchords bird to this New Year, that wants me to want to change all my shit up.

                                              (yeah. Screw You, New Years Resopooption)

Don't get me wrong, I'm SUPER excited to continue living and breathing and wasting most of my time on the internet, but now I don't have the added pressure of accomplishing a goal I'm fairly sure I'll fail at miserably in the coming year and then be super bummed at my inability to accomplish what some would deem the most menial of tasks. Like...cleaning...anything...in general.

I do however have a new theme for this year, and that is:

Nerd Out With Your Turd Out

(I tried to find a picture that went along with that new stellar catchphrase but surprisingly the internet has not prepped for such levels of awesome and we all know how good I am at Paint. Hence, here we are, reading in Italics.)

It's my take on Rock Out With Your Cock Out,  but ...not as good...in any way.

You can take it, though. Consider it my New Years gift to you. AND NO RE-GIFTING. Also no refunds.

                     (I wanna be the blog that has the most pictures of old people being awesome)

Now here's your real gift. I feel like I put you through a pretty crappy post, as I tend to do most of the time, but if there's one I'm hands down put your cake to the ground GOOD at it...

is BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS (yelled like a dinosaauuuuuurrrrr)!!!!

What I've read recently that is totally legit:

1. First Meetings in Ender's Universe by Orson Scott Card (you have to have read AT LEAST Ender's Game, and I recommend every book in the series thereafter, in order to read this one. I mean, no one from the CIA is going to scale down on ropes and fishline your throat off, but I still highly advise it.)

2. Fray by Joss Whedon (a graphic novel. And it may or may not be a graphic novel set in the future based on Buffy but it's a new slayer in a crazy ass version of New York and...I think I may have revealed too much about my personal interests.)

3. The Word For World is Forest by Ursula K Le Guin (Think Avatar, but more settling-in-the-center-of-your-soul-esque)

Here's to making 2012 as much like 2011 as humanly possible. Woooooooooo!