Memes Pt.3!!!!!!

Meme #3!!! I'm using exclamation points to portray my excitement!!! Join me won't you!!!!

Ok, calm your cakes down.

Meme #3: Forever Alone Guy

Forever Alone Guy is a depiction of all the hilariously depressing points of being single. I liken it to Dane Cook's joke "When you don't have love, it's like there's a party going on, and everybody was invited, except for you. And you just happened to be walking by that house in the rain... (chokes on tears) "I wasn't invited to this party." 

Instances for appropriate use of Forever Alone Guy are as follows:

1. Riding a tandem bike alone

2. Drinking a milkshake with two straws alone

3. Owning a Japanese body pillow 

4. Being the guy that comes up to an already ensuing conversation and laughing along with everyone else when you have no idea what the joke is. It's probably you, Forever Alone Guy. The joke was probably about you. At least you've proven you can laugh at yourself. Way to go, buddy! No...no don't touch me. 

5. When you're mom asks if you have a girlfriend you say "Yes, her name is Siri, and she's perfect."

The above picture shows you that there are certain levels of awesome to Forever Alone Guy. Sure, he's alone. Sure, he's weird. Sure, he probably smells pretty gnarly. But dude knows how to enjoy his life sans companionship. I don't see it stopping him from having an epic light saber fight as seen above. And to that I say "Mad props, yo." 

Mad. Props. 

Memes Pt.2

Let's do this! Not wastin' no time no how! Meme #2: Me Gusta

Me Gusta is pretty self explanatory but none the less it is very important in understanding while traipsing about the interwebs. Me Gusta is a meme that comments on the almost inappropriate level of appreciation for a certain something or other. Creepy-Like status if you will. A good literary comparison of Me Gusta is Lenny from Of Mice and Men and his affinity for soft things, like mice, and lady hair, and rabbits, and then accidentally killing those things because he pets them too hard. See? Creepy Like. Doesn't have to be as drastic as murder mind you, just as long as there is a level of enjoyment that's not necessarily socially acceptable. 

My own personal Me Gusta might be akin to coming home to a freezing house and immediately suiting up into footie pajamas that are covered with brightly colored skulls and crossbones. Am I five, you may ask? No, I'm closer to 30 than I am to 20 and I do not fear rocking the shit out of a onesie. Bam. Me Gusta. 

Now a simple math equation: Me Gusta + My Adult Onesie =

And there you have it. A Meme! Even if you don't know me and my weirdo love of footed pajamas, you can now understand that's what I'm conveying with this picture, sans words. Bing bang boom, you are now 2% more of a hipster than you were before you read this blog.

And yeah there's a big white space attached to the picture that I don't know how to get rid of. I'm not a Paint magician, OK!?

Keep posted for Part 3 kiddles. 

Explaining Memes to the Masses

Note: This post topic will be split into several separate posts. Mostly because if I were to do the whole shebang in one glorious shot it would be far too long for my patience...this sentence is even too long for my patience and also other stuff too, reasons and whatnot. So, before I start playing with balls of yarn and shiny things, let's do this.

If you're on Facebook you've probably noticed a growing trend of people filling the crap out of your newsfeed with pictures of hilarious cats saying hilarious things in hilarious cat talk and other various picture creations that have only one goal: to make you laugh your balls off.

These are memes (pronounced meems). Now you may wonder, are some memes more popular and well known than others? You bet your sweet pinchable tushy there are. In fact, there is a set of faces with expressions that satirically comment on life and other such nonsense and are universally recognizable. Stay tuned because this is vital to your cool points and will no doubt get you laid (lies). They are as follows:

The "Troll"

The Troll is known for high end tomfoolery and assholery. A "troll's" main goal is to get people riled up for the sole purpose of effing with them and getting a reaction. They are Class A poop buckets and you need to be wary of when you go all wang chung on them. They like that. It feeds them and their soulless souls. Granted it's usually done to make stupid people look stupid...as seen here

Or to dabble in giggle worthy trickery at someone else's expense. It's ok though, the victims are usually dumb enough to deserve it. As seen here...

So as you can see, Troll's are not all bad. They are your run-of-the-mill lovable assholes. And we all know someone like that and we are grateful for the simultaneous entertainment and headaches they provide. So that's Section One of Knowing your Memes. I know I know, it was an awesome bomb of knowledge and you are currently digging truth shrapnel out of your scarred flesh and you want more, but this is MY blog and I DO WHAT I WANT. See you next time. Kisses.

Bleghk! NO TONGUE. 

Home Is Where Your Mang Is

About 6 years ago I lived in L.A. (Santa Monica to be specific, Colby and Wilshire to be anal)  and I really didn't like it. More like hated it. More like darkest time of my life status.

Don't get me wrong there were definite Ups, like my friends from school and musical theater, but I never really got close enough to anyone to have a "best" friend or support system while I was living in a place of constant judgment and failure. Not to mention I didn't have stellar confidence going into this mess (a proverbial no no, see if you didn't grow up in LA don't move to LA unless A. you have a support system of friends, B. a good setup you can call home and feel safe from bedbugs and rapists, or C. you were brought there for work. Otherwise, don't act all surprised when the pet monkey of that homeless guy on Santa Monica Blvd is throwing his LA monkey caca all over your life. It just wasn't a copacetic setup (see what I did there? It was like rhyming, but not quite....moving on) so I said "peace out" and moved back to Sac (Sacramento if you're nasty) to a very happy high five filled life.

Skip to 4 years later when my best friend/ roommate/ lifesource decides she's gonna up and move to LA leaving me to follow in her intern footsteps and pout relentlessly at her decision. Well, long story short, her experience of LA was in direct opposition to mine, and I say it's because she followed the above steps. She had a lot of friends that lived in LA she knew from college, she found what is probably the best kept secret apartment for winners and is currently being better than you in it, AND she has successfully integrated herself into an amazing theatre company that does exactly the kind of work she loves. What the what?!?!?

Skip to the last couple times I've visited her here. It's not...the unhappiest place in the world anymore. I keep trying to figure out what changed...did LA get a makeover? why are people more smiley than I remember? and then I realize..it's because my Mang is here. It's because I don't give homeless man's monkey's flying crap whether people are judging me because I'm old enough to know who I am now and relish in the fact that life is in fact what I make of it. I always thought that was crazy talk growing up. Life is what you make of it? Infinite eye roll ensues. But it's true. Those crabby stick up their ass adults knew what they were talking about ( and that's us now! We are the crabby stick up our ass adults!)

Isn't that great? Everything else I wanted to say sounds so School House Rock so I'm gonna put the kabash on that and go for a jog (pronounced yog when you want to pretend you speak spanish) and discover things, maybe almost get hit by a car, and vision quest the bejeezus out of this day.

   

I have a theory....

So ...Jesus, right? Immaculate conception, or did Mary just get unwittingly boned by a ninja?

Think about it.

Will this girl EVER shut up about zombies???

Nawp.

This post isn't so much about zombies (psh, who am I kidding, it's a LOT about zombies, but there's other stuff too) as it is about the way our perception of a writer/novelist/book-maker-upper changes the way we read and enjoy books.

I just finished the first two of the saucy threesome that is Day by Day Armageddon by J.L. Bourne. I got the first one for my birfday and finished it within a matter of 7 hours. I. Could. Not. Put. It. Down. Not only was it comparable to zombie fiction gold like World War Z by Max Brooks, it was a whole new level because of the in-depth tactical explanations and mind blowing suggestion of what may have caused the zombie apocalypse (the final explanation will hopefully be fleshed out in the third and final book because sweet baby jebus let me tell you, my brain hurts from looking on forums and then having to google things like "nanobots," the "Compton Scattering Effect," "crumple drive," and "physics" BLECK...science? Is important? To understand things??? Not a fan.) <---Wow, if you were expecting me to use parenthesis correctly at any point and time in this blog or in my life for that matter, you are in for a world of pain ma friend.

So...science. It's real, and despite as gross and impossible it is to understand it serves it's purpose allowing the author to walk a very fine line between reality and fiction. It also does a world of good for the credibility of the author to be clearly immersed in the facts of the supposed reality he or she is asking you to believe in. I find this to be especially true in Orson Scott Card novels. That dude has studied his military history and space gooblety gock fa sho. Ender's Game is hands down the book I have most reread in my entire life. About thirty times. The others in the series are more than worth a returning read, but I keep going back to that one like literary meth. Or...cough syrup (that's addicting right? It's delicious I know that much).

I don't know if I'm just a weirdo banana goo goo, but I really like researching the background of the authors of books I connect to, and get epically immersed in. I feel like I'm getting an even more intimate look at something I've dissected with love. Once I got to know some more things about Orson Scott Card, my brain stamped a resounding approval on a man I have never met before. Through interviews and Forewords I decided "decent human being, someone who is bettering the world with his words." At that point I became even more involved with a genre I had never touched before (Sci-Fi). It became a semi-obsession. I had to have every book by this writer because I felt I was bettering myself through osmosing (you know what I mean) off a person I admired.

I did the same thing with John Green, but the process was backwards-sauce. First I was a fan of his personality through his charming nerd video blog that he created with his brother Hank Green. Through this venue I discovered he was a writer and thus my next collection of interest-in-author-based book purchases began. And I wasn't disappointed, oh no, somehow the reading experience was heightened by having a log of John's vocal signatures and inflections in my mind grapes from watching so many Vlogbrothers videos, like he was reading the book to me. Same with David Sedaris. I listened to one of his audiobooks on a long trip and after that I gained so much happy good times from reading his books with his voice in the narration seat. I watched hilarious clips of his appearances on talk shows and took even more joy in the knowledge that the author I chose to admire was legit, funny for realz, and someone I would high five in life (although David Sedaris wouldn't be in this equation as he has a phobia of people touching him).

So what happens when you find out you don't really care for the personality of an author whose book you really like, eh? Some would say, who gives a shit, it's not like you're ever going to hang out with this person, and just because YOU don't like what they have to say in real life doesn't mean other people don't. Well you have a valid point but for the sake of my argument I'm going to ask you to, for the time being, shut your dirty cock holster. As I mentioned before, I was visiting a certain discussion forum after having read the second book in the Day by Day Armageddon series. This forum was special because the author himself would post some responses to the posits of his fans and what their expectations and theories for the third and final book were. And that's when shit went downhill for me as a reader who likes to like the author as a person. One of the fan posts was as follows:

"I do not think sub-nanotechnology is a million years beyond our grasp right now. I do however believe that detecting sub-nanotechnology is beyond out current technological limitations. .5 angstrom is .005 nanometres. For there to be sub-nano circuitry you would have to have a resolution greater than that. .5 angstrom resolution allows you to see the spaces and edges of an atom. What you are talking about you would have to be able to actually see the atom with a resolution to see the electrons, protons, and neutrons of the atom. I am not calling bullshit on what your saying just that I dont think we are a million years from the point of that kind of observation."

I told you science sucks to read about. But anyways, this was a fan's opinion and in an open forum he had every right to share it. This was the response of the author to the above post:

"I don't need you to agree with me.  I'm the one writing the novels, not you.  Feel free to write your own novel, get it published somehow and have people that think they know something about nano-tech/sub-nano tech TRY and pick it apart, unsuccessfully.  Good luck." 

Ugh. What's that sour taste in my mouth? Oh yeah, it's your ATTITUDE Mr. Writer Man! Dude was just trying to get his nerd on and debate physics like bros do (nope...no they don't) and you've got to shut him down like that? Un-savory, good sir. That's what I say. Now I said I had already read the first two books before reading this forum and the third one has yet to be released but I had put it on pre-order when I ordered the second book. But when I read that statement I felt myself cringe at the thought of reading it, of being one of the many readers paying for this guy's fame and fortune when he didn't seem to even appreciate his fans. I began to think of the things I didn't really care for in the second book. All because I assessed someone's attitude as "not the hero I wanted him to be." You know what that makes me? A dookie head. 

How dare I make a snap judgment on someone's personality that I have never and statistically will never meet face to face? Maybe Bourne was having a bad day, maybe he was sick of his work that he's put so much time and effort into getting pulled apart by the physics bullies. Seriously, what's has two thumbs and is total dookie head? This beezy (points to self, jabs self in eye on accident). Maybe give someone the benefit of the doubt today like I should have done instead of rage stroking at the failure of an icon that didn't live up to the role he didn't choose for himself, but that I placed upon him. 

Because in the end, aren't we all just one big world of dookie heads?

The Adult Diaper Chronicles

Don't let the title throw you. You'll start reading this and think, what the hell does this blog have to do with adult diapers and all I can say is, trust me, we'll get there.

So I've been feeling lately that I have officially reached that transition in one's life, that everyone goes through, where they lose touch with the current Youth of the times and their stupid interests and feelings. If I sound embittered it's only because that was my heyday not too long ago. So these little bastards can suck it (I kid...mostly). This transition of "losing touch with today's youth" is followed by the distant future transition of "losing touch with reality" and then shortly thereafter the transition of "losing touch with my bladder control." Hence, adult diapers. BOOYAH, got there faster than I thought I would *takes a break to momentarily high five myself*. I'm not exactly sure when I lost touch with the current pop culture and its inner workings but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with shifting out of college and into the real world. Some people might think, "Whatevs, I work while in college. I KNOW the real world." And then they add a "psshh" for good measure and then I'm like "Stop sipping on your Haterade and imbibe my logistics for sec." Insert "Gahhhhd" here. College is a warm blanket of reassurance, with built-in friends, mentors, and posters that tell you what's cool so you don't even have to think about it. College plans your events and gives the ego boosting feeling of being "involved" in something bigger than yourself. A "purpose" one might call it. Then you get out of college and nobody hands you shit. Unless you're on a city bus, and then the probability of someone handing you actual shit goes up immensely. Yeah college should have prepared  you with a pretty good base of where to go and what to do to pursue your dreams (which will change every five seconds after college, because usually your dream jobs don't pay well and parents are notorious for not footing your bills after college, as well they should be) but you realize very quickly that you don't really know what you're doing or what the hell is going on in general. Welcome to Adulthood! So, in scrounging around for something to do to pay for things like talking to the morons at Comcast for six days in a row because they don't really seem to know what cable is or how to "provide" it, you will lose touch with current music, fashion, and youthful trends. It happens. And I feel pretty ok about it. Let's go to Example Time. For example, I've heard from various sources, numerous in the past month, that highschool chaps and chippies like to do it in the B in order to avoid pregnancy. I'm all for avoiding teen pregnancy but I'm like...it's still your B. When did that get thrown on the table? For high school kids? Those crazy poop mongers! Ehhh, ok ya know what...I'm gonna steer away from this episode of Example Time because I have firsthand knowledge that family members of mine read this blog and if my consistent use of profanity hasn't disappointed them enough I'm pretty sure talking about high school butt sex is a one way ticket to them disowning me. Oh god I hope my grandfather never learns how to properly use the internet.

Sooo onward we go. To the diapers. THE DIAPERS I SAY! I don't know what everyone is so scared about. If I had my way, adult diapers would already be an acceptable part of daily living for any one, any age, any mobility. Can you imagine how much time you would save and more work and creative endeavors you could get done if you had the freedom of crapping whilst doing so? It's all about multitasking, people. And those feint of heart might think "But the smell! The smell!" To that I say get Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and a couple dudes from NASA on it and I'm sure they could whip us up something real nice, free of smell. I bet we could even get a green friendly diaper doodad going if we put our minds to it. My point is it's all about perspective. That's always my point. I have very few points but many derivations and useless examples for each. It's kind of my thing. You think getting old is scary? Yeah well, nut up and look at all the awesome stuff. One of my biggest fears about getting old is crazy ugly wrinkles, flabby skin, and the battle to stay thin or even medium, getting harder and harder (because I'm not the hugest fan of "trying" or "making an effort"...especially when it comes to working out) but it's going to happen. All I can do is make sure my brain is really awesome by that time because no one's going to wanna hang around me to swoon over my tube sock boobs. But there's cool stuff too! Like retirement! And old people homes! Playing card games all day, reading, pondering, and developing a wiser understanding of the world? Um, yah. I could definitely get down on that. I'm here to infer (because granted I don't actually know) that it doesn't get worse as we get older. It just gets...different. And different can be pretty rad.

(You can bet your ass I'll be rockin tiaras at age 90. And I already have those glasses. Good to go.)