An Ode to a Robot

I'd like to preface by saying...this is gonna get gross. And by gross I mean, it involves feelings of the goopy, mushy, kissy foo foo kind. Bleck, I know. I hate it too. But that's a minimal percent I promise. Still 90% kickassery and 5% made up words, with the left over 5% being the goop of which I speak.

So I met a boy, through two friends, through an awesome Victorian 4plex apartment where many lives were changed. We met on Halloween when I was dressed as Punk Rock Red (my own take on Little Red Riding Hood that involved black leather hiking books and fingerless gloves) and he as Brett from Flight of the Conchords (double swoon). He even came fully loaded with a guitar and ample knowledge of the FOTC playlist. He played, I sang, and one fateful picture was taken of the two of us posing with the guitar, his expression goofily happy and mine on the brink of "full rock out" mode (It is now on our fridge). A mismatched yet charming pair of strangers. And that was it...for a long time. It wasn't love at first sight or even second or third awkward high five hello while passing in the doorways. It was acquaintances bordering on mild friendship. Our mutual friendships put us in the same room for holidays, parties, and special occasions and enough conversations had been had to know that this was a stand up guy with a sense of humor so ridiculously hilarious that not everyone is cool enough to get it. And watching the people who don't get it, react to it, icing on the cake. 

I learned that he gave guitar and piano lessons for a living, so I sacked up and asked for a few guitar lessons in exchange for ...well, nothing I think. I think I just asked for free guitar lessons. Clearly I'm not one for manners. But fate being as it would, he obliged and came over to teach me the Harry Potter theme song, the famous asian riff that goes a little something like Dadadada-da-da-dun-dun-daa!, and various chords that I renamed to Dragon, Dumbledore, Apple, Egg, and other things that range in importance to me. I wanna say this was around the time where I became semi-smitten. I was in a "not a fan of love" phase of my life so this was a feat in and of itself. And then we went kayaking and saw a dinosaur bird and a deer and I knew then and there that whatever this was, it was made of a certain type of magic that I would be a fool not to pursue. So I did. 

This led to a long a courtship that resulted in the first holding of hands after about a month. And I'd like to remind you that this is people in their mid twenties. Also known as nerds. Ahhhh nerd love. It really is the best kind. And then came the first kiss that everyone and their mom witnessed. Clearly doorways are not made for first kisses. But all our friends get a nice, neat, hilarious memory from it so who am I to complain? 

After that it was mainly the Business of Fun that we attended to. Midnight bike rides, movies, chess, scrabble, coffee, dancing, walking, endless high fives, making up songs about the things we were currently doing (think Scrubs "Waffle Time Waffle Time, won't you have some waffles of mine?" but all the time and involving tooth brushing and everything else ever) and just so many other things that my brain gets tired thinking of them all. Because of all this, I discovered his true purpose in my life. Clearly, someone so perfect for me was nearer to an impossibility than anything else. So, being a fan of Occam's razor, I concocted this succinct little ditty. This boy was a Robot, sent from the future by Chinese scientists to kill me. Made to my exact specifications in order to dupe me into total vulnerable sicky goop love that my defenses were utterly shattered. And it worked! Oh by the hammer of Thor, did it! After discovering their evil plan I did what any sensible human being would do. I said "Well done evil scientists. I know this perfect Robot brings my doom, but ya know what? Totally. Worth it."

Fin. 

My Grandmother, Myself

Never leave your sentimental pictures in hiding spots you least expect to find them. Believe me, it will turn your shit upside down. Considering the picture in question, of my grandma and grandpa walking to their car from a trip to Morro Beach (even my use of the S word would offend my grandma so that I feel the need to redact it), is enough to spiral me into emotional oblivion.
I don't know if you've ever lost someone close to you, and I pray to God you don't, but if you have, I feel for you. My grandmother was the pinnacle of my existence for a very long time. And I'm sorry to get so dark and deep on you, but life consists of just as much laughs and tomfooleries as it does absolute anguish. Since inside-wise this blog is getting a little too painful to handle I'm gonna lighten things up by remembering the things I cherished most about June (G to the Ma) that I can't help but giggle at when I think about:
1. Romance Novels
     -Girl loved her some Fabio. At age 7-12 a favorite past time of cousins and co. was confiscating said novels and giggling at the consistent use of "nipple." Seriously romance novel writers, there ARE other areas of the female body.
2. The Wig
     -Even in the case of complete lack of hair loss, I guess the fear of losing locks was enough to purchase the hilarious Moe (of Curly and Larry fame) style do to which I would perform Annie songs in.
3. Movies that I'm Ashamed to Love but I Do
     -Easter Parade, While You Were Sleeping, and Under the Tuscan Sun are movies it would now it my present state of being never even occur to me to Netflix stream (Netflix stream has about ten movies that would actually interest me, and you probably) in the most dire of predicaments, but thanks to my grandma, I've seen an accumulative of 140 times while weeping, laughing, and indulging each and every time.
4. The Lackluster Wrapping of Gifts
     -No one could wrap a present like June Barger. Meaning, Wal Mart and Safeway could and do. Christmases filled with opening gifts with tags still on encased in plastic bags mean more to me than any fancy shmancy, hours of effort wrappings, will ever manage.
5. She was a Nurse
     -Free Jell-O yo.
6. The Most Loving Family You Could Ever Request Via Jesus
     -The fact that I hang out with my Aunt and Uncle every other week and love my mom more than you love loving things, is a testament to how cool my grandma was. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill church on Sunday family. This was your get-your-ass-in-the-car-so-we-can-drive-through-dangerous-fog-and-get-into-multiple-car-accidents-on-the-way-to-church-family. Our shit was dedicated. And she was the glue. If she told me to kill you, you would not be reading this. KITANA'ED. I honestly don't know how she did it, but the wake of her absence is felt beyond what even I comprehend.
7. Knick-knackery
      -I never knew what a "hutch" was until my grandma had three filled with exotic glass birds and Ming vases (One of which I broke, I was seven years old, so sue me) maybe twelve years old but you get the picture. I remember a very antique looking key that marked the entrance to my Dungeons and Dragons/Imaginationing dabbling, because if that couldn't open the door to a labyrinth, what could? 
           -Under the heading of Knick-knackery I'd like to include Nursery's. Not the baby kind, but of the Japanese plant persuasion. My childhood is brim full of them, where I would not find a love of botany, but a love of hide and seek Shrubbery 3.0 version. (June was surprisingly not a fan of this endeavor)

and last but very much not least...selflessness. I see it in my mother everyday. When I break everything I can possibly break, even as an adult (glasses, cars, phones, relationships. etc) she extends life and limb to solve my qualms. And I know this is in direct thanks to my grandmother. Sometimes I feel like, who would the world be/have been without her? Would it have just all stopped had she not come into the picture? Well, for me that's a definite yes, but for you...I hope you at least just wonder at the various other lives that have affected yours without your knowledge. Someone did something awhile ago and you are who you are because of it. So stay in skool, preach to the choir, be kind rewind, and any other inspirational ism that touches you. For your very own June Patsy Barger. Because, if not for them....then who?

The Hipster-Oldster Correlation

I find that hispters are more than vaguely reminiscent of old people. And here's why:

1. They wear the same clothes.
     -Hipsters are representing their fashion sense by wearing what I like to call "grandma gear." More and more often I see young guys and gals sporting 60's and 70's vintage mom and dad wear. Not that I'm complaining, the only frustrating thing about this plain truth is that they can pull it off and I can't.

2. They are proud medicinal marijuana card holders.
     -Whether it's due to glaucoma or a raging case of the i-want-to-get-highsies, hipsters and oldsters alike seem to flock to cannabis cannery's like moths to a lava lamp.

3. They live in communes.
     -Hipsters live and vacay in communes to promote the good of the earth, while oldsters live in communes because sadly they have to. Either way I think communes are a pretty good idea and with population growth going the way it is, community living is probably the next step in social evolution. Plus, think of all the potlucks!

4. They're people watchers.
     -One of my favorite past-times with my great grandma was a little game we called "people watching," which is not so much a game as it is sitting and staring at things, specifically other humans going about their various activities. And if you've ever dallied around midtown you can feel the eyes of a thousand hipsters watching you as you go. Don't take it as an insult, they're just people watching (and probably judging, but mostly just the other thing).

5.They live in the memory of a decadent past.
      -The fact that most places that sell Ipods also sell record players insinuates that the youthful hipsters of today are kickin back with some dope LP's and a glass of their finest Ovaltine. This is one of the attributes I most admire about hipsters, because if they don't remember and cherish the radness of the past decades, who will? To your complete lack of Bieber fever, dear hipsters and oldsters, I salute you.

Thus concludes my daily observation. They're not all winners.

Damn it feels good to be a NINJA

Ninjas rule. I know it. You know it. Quentin Tarantino knows it. Thus his bajillion dollar Kill Bill franchise. Which brings me to point
A) Ninja Movies- where have they been and where are they going...also now, where are they now.
   subpoint A. I don't know how to do "points" so bear with me, if anything my battle with grammar and punctuation will be amusing.
        postsubpoint A. Just kidding, let's get back on track and screw the points.
So I'm gonna start my assessment with a little movie I like to call (as does its director and the guy who came up with its name) Ninja Assassin. Ninja movies are notorious for their sub-par plots salvationed by fight scenes that cause you bodily harm from being so awesome that you recreate them in your kitchen or garage with brooms that you break in half to serve as fighting staffs or fake nunchaku you treat as real nunchaku. Some bad ideas just feel sooooo gooood. But in Ninja Assassin I not only found a movie filled with enviable wall bouncing and chainlink knife swinging debauchery, but a pretty awesome idea as well. A rogue ninja who assassinates others ninjas? I'm sorry I didn't prelude that with SPOILER ALERT but if you can't infer that from the title then <insert joke about your obliviousness here>. I was pretty impressed with a plot that includes the irony of ninja vs. ninja, a misplaced heart (true spoiler suckas), and the ever needed ninja vendetta. Albeit there was a sub-par love story in there somewhere but I was practicing my spinning bird kicks through that noise. He needed someone to avenge right? Might as well be the girl who oh boo hoo can't hack it at ninja camp. It also leads me to believe that there are more ninja movies like these to come. I just high fived myself as should you. Movie makers are now giving us our cake AND letting us eat it.
Maybe I'm just a douche but as much as I enjoyed Iron Monkey my freshman year of high school, even then I wanted a little more than the cliche family avenger. However, I can't be too harsh because there is something truly magical about old timey black and white ninja movies. They completely transport you to another realm that is absolutely unlike your own. So they rule in their own right.
Then we get a little further down the line to visual beauties like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Hero. This marks the point in time when my happy dance was invented. It's a series of kicks and dance punches in case you queried. I cried in a very non-ninja like fashion during both films due to the intensely gorgeous imaging and crazy sad stories. So as far as going goes, I think ninja movies are on the right track, aging like a fine wine that can kill you in 70,000,000 ways. Proving my theory that life just keeps getting better in this genre is the fact that I got exactly what I wanted in a ninja movie except that a lot of people could argue that its not actually a ninja movie. Christmas morning joy is felt every time I witness

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

yeah, it needs it's own subspace. I literally need three more blog posts the length of this blog post to gush properly about this epic movie of all movies. But I won't. All I will say is that a movie that combines ninjas, comic book and video games references and imagery, Michael Cera, that one guy from Phantom Planet, and hilarious dialogue...op yep I peed a little.
I was gonna write more but this is soooo long and if you're attention span is anything like

Zombie Apocalypse Training- The New 24hr Fitness

Soooo I have a minor obsession with the idea of a potential zombie apocalypse. As do most Americans I assume, judging by the ravenous zombie-based movie goers, TV hit AMC Walking Dead followers, Max Brooks readers (If you haven't read World War Z, I point the pointy finger of shame at you), and Zombie Pub Crawl enthusiasts. It's an epidemic, much like the zombie virus itself and I too have fallen victim to its awesomeness. For me, it's just a natural progression from my Buffy watching imaginary vampire slaying days, but  now I've taken the threat to a whole new level.
The change happened after reading the aforementioned book, World War Z by Max Brooks. If anybody can make the impending apocalypse feel real, it's that dude, hands mutherf&#*n down. Personal accounts that recount a past war of epic proportions fills every fiber of your being with fear, empathy, and a misplaced but necessary sense of badassness. It always surprises me when every person you ask pegs themselves as the for-sure survivors of the End of the World and their no-question ability to slay the undead. In all honesty, with every story perpetuating a percentage of survival at about 10% or less for ALL of civilization, the numbers just don't work in their favor. That being said, I would totally rock the zombie apocalypse and kitana my way to glory. Or at least I would try. And the effort starts here, in the now. I learned that from the follow up Max Brooks literary gold mine The Zombie Survival Guide. If I wanna follow in the footsteps of I Am Legend protagonist, Robert Neville (aside from the whole "minor descent into solitary madness and temptation to have sexy time relations with my dead wife" thing, talking about the book not the movie fyi) and survive day to day among the undead, I need to up my cardio workouts and STAT.
So I have a proposition (as I usually do) to start the Zombie Apocalypse Training Center for Winners!!! (I'm still debating the exclamation points). At our state of the art center you will excel at the wielding of various weaponry, strengthen your body to weather any situation, from climbing up to hard to reach places (because everyone knows the undead can't climb for shit) to trekking through various tundra on your search for survivors like yourself. Zombie simulated encounters included in your package! Call today!
Or...something to that effect. So join me in this effort, and tell your local gym to screw the conventional classes and give us something valuable like Undead Tactical Training to work with. Together, I believe we can barely survive this, and I mean that as the highest compliment to our human race. Actually that will probably be the catchphrase of the ZATCFW.

"Together we can. But just barely."

Geeking Out on Nerdery

A certain type of phenomena has swept through our society that I am reaaaaaalllly diggin'. The Dawning of the Age of the Geek. It might just be me, but I give you evidence in the form of the highly popular merch website thinkgeek.com, the youtube channel of the Vlogbrothers, and the hit series The Big Bang Theory. From fashion choices (hipster glasses used to be the glasses you would gouge out your eyes before actually submitting to wearing and subjecting yourself to the mockery that those thick rimmed demons evoked... whoa flashback) to TV personalities (you might not think Jim and Pam or Conan O'Brien are geeks and to that I say you are wrong and probably stupid) to rapidly expanding our reservoir of knowledge (thank you Iphone) the people have spoken, and they're saying "We Want Geek."
To give you a basic background on how much of a Nerdy McNerderson I am (so as to quell your fears) I give you a list of things I go absolutely fangirl for:
1. Video Games
   -Super Street Fighter (and all other subsequent Street Fighters except for Beta and Beta 2, they can go straight to hell) Marvel vs. Capcom (every 1,2, and 3 of them), Dead or Alive, and I'm sure you're seeing a pattern here. Give me a fighting game where I can play a hot chick and I'm golden. I've been attempting Call of Duty Black Ops (Nazi Zombies) with Robot (nickname for my manfriend, I'll explain later) and truth of the matter is, I really suck at first person shooter games despite my very real passion for laser tagging. Oh yeah.
2. Laser Tagging
   -Simulating a video game with your very own body? Exercise you don't even notice because you're stalking the enemy, who is also your best friend? Being drunk while doing so? Yes please, I'll take three.
3. Books
   -I'm in long term relationships with a few of my books, Ender's Game, Ender's Shadow, Fahrenheit 451, Scott Pilgrim graphic novels (Graphic Novels should have it's own heading but I'm kind of tired, soooo.) and everything written by David Sedaris. However, any book will do. I like encyclopedias too, oh BOY do I. There's a place in Midtown (Sac) that is a literary mecca and that place is Beer's Books. I want to go to there. When I was a child one of my dreams was to live in the library, and when I was a teenager the only job I coveted was that of an independent book seller. I'm a nerd. And I love books.
 4. Scrabble, Boggle, Chess, Munchkins (it's basically Magic the Gathering for Beginner's)
   -. I will pwn you in Scrabble. Unless you're Dave Pierini and win every game against me except one, you rat bastard.
5. I had a point before I made this list and now I've forgotten what it was, let me scroll up and find out....

The point is I have a question. If all the geeks are the cool kids now, what happens to the cool kids? There's got to be a theorem or equation that explains the consequences of this transition. Also, why is it now that society has chosen to lift the nerd upon its shoulders and not when I was going through puberty? Hey Universe, refuse to bend to my will much? Gahhh. Rude. Anyways, I'm pretty happy about it and here's why. What society thinks is cool gets the most attention from the people who make and sell things. So what's happening is I'm finding more and more things that actually interest me and that I care about in mainstream easily accessible venues. I don't have to go to collector's to find a vintage something something from Star Wars or a Banksy wall decal of an adorable panda with handguns (Etsy.com). They're bringing this stuff to me and you now, and expanding our interests while we're at it. Welcome to the Age of the Geek, nerd.  

Book Idea

I have a book idea. The book title (which I know you should never start with the book title but screw you I'm doing it anyway) would be called An Intellectual History of Farts. When I think about book ideas the first thing I do is think about things that I personally would want to read, not necessarily if I have any stories to tell (which it so happens, I don't, so it all works out). So today I farted, and beautiful inspiration came forth. Farts are weird right? Not socially acceptable, taboo, hilarious, and sometimes a relationship deal breaker. It is beyond my comprehension that there are some couples who have been together for years and years who have never F worded in front of each other. I personally find this ridiculous and a form of torture closely related to water-boarding. E-V-E-R-Y-B-O-D-Y  F-A-R-T-S. And this marks the point where my interest was peaked by my own inner brain workings. CEO's of major companies fart, Angelina Jolie farts, your mom farts, my dog farts, Obama Nation is a nation of farters. And you know there have got to be some crazy ass stories that go along with these human releases of pressure. I want to know! The people need to know. So here's the outline:
1. A Bitchin Title
    An Intellectual History of Farts (double check)
2. The First Few Chapters
    -Talkin about the science of farts or whatever (don't worry it gets better)
3. The Next Few Chapters
    -Famous Farts (I told you)
     *celebrity farts, political farts (from Senates to National Treaty Signings and beyond) and in general anyone who warrants our interest who has a documented flatulence to behold.
4. Chapter 7
    -Farting as a social taboo (are we more comfortable with farts now than say the 50's? What we learn from Sex and the City about farting, and what our go abouting when it comes to farting says about us)
5. The Last Few Chapters
   -I haven't quite thought that far ahead. Get back to me.
The End

Just a side note, I have no intention whatsoever of writing this book but I would really like it if someone else would, and then send me the intellectual license checks. Kthxbye.