Introduction

Drunken rantings

I don't condone an alcoholic lifestyle (but I can't blame ya!) so don't jump on my face. At least not before I catch your name. These rants were written sporadically while under the influence, and I can't say that they necessarily pertain to anything you would be interested in.

a third nipple?!!
While undressing, I found a new freckle on the ridge between my back and torso. If I'm allowed to bust out my awesome anatomy skillz, it would be the Dorsi muscle. So I was like: "Freckle? Where have you been all my life?" And the freckle says to me: "Oh, pip pip! I'm just impending skin cancer is all, showing up in a late stage of life. Go about your day and don't forget to put on that sunscreen lotion doodad this summer. Wotwot!"
If I were a hypochrondriac then maybe life would be more interesting.

i'm sorry, Mark Wahlberg!
I may be a gossip maven but I sure do get my celebrities mixed up. From Claire Danes and Cameron Diaz, to Salma Hayek and Penelope Cruz. Although, in my defense, hispanics often almost look the same. A new dilemma has come over me, though!
I get Mark Wahlberg and Matt Damon mixed up all the time. Most recently, I was watching Renaissance Man with Danny Devito -- okay, well. Not actually with him although I had a whiskey and coke by my side, so it sufficed. The whole entire time that movie was on, I thought it was a young Matt Damon I had been watching. No! NOT AT ALL! It was in fact Marky Mark.
I can only imagine the embarassment I'll go through if I do indeed meet Mark Wahlbeg one day, just to call him Matt Damon. Geez, gosh.

sarah mad about this missing spoon!
Now, I've watched enough of The Matrix Trilogy to come to a resounding conclusion. I think it goes something like wtf, epic DBZ fight after all of that? I have never been so let down in my entire life. Although there was that one time my entire family drove two hours out of State before realizing they had left me in the driveway. I'll remember this when I'm putting you in the home, mom and dad. But that's beside the point.
The Matrix took me in, showed me a great time, then left me in the morning with a dry cleaning bill from hell. I cannot believe I even let loose an ounce of disbelief when the entire series was over. I've never felt so tricked in my entire life, and for a glimmering moment I felt an upswell of a million people's disappointment.

The first Matrix was neat and stuff because people were flying around and they wore bondage outfits. Then came The Matrix: Reloaded. That entire movie can be summed up in a unanimous agreement that nobody wanted to see Neo's naked ass.
But the Matrix: Reloaded was suspenseful in providing more questions. What is the Matrix and why is choice so important? Who is that guy and is Colonel Sanders really behind everything as I first suspected? It served its purpose well, and Revolutions was readily regarded as the holy grail. A mecca of information.

So there I was. Fucking PUMPED to finally catch the last installment. I was immobile from a night of drinking and marching happily into being held captive for the duration of the movie. I later tried asphyxiating myself from certain viewable doom because it was too much for me to bear.
What I found was Neo indicting himself as a Christ figure while everyone else shrugged their shoulders and gave up. Nothing was put to rest. Instead, I was met with the characters smirking at me with some knowledge that they weren't sharing about what the fuck just happened.

Leaving it so open ended was a cop out; offering people to 'draw their own conclusions'. Faith and belief were played upon so heavily in Matrix: Revolutions that I felt like I was attending church.
No, worse yet! It was like meeting someone you thought was cool but instead turned out to be some Scientology freak, or a Mormon. Hearing about either practices just makes me want to drink questionable kool-aid.
I absolutely loathe when that card is played, in which a movie will try to fake you out in making you 'think' you can 'solve' what just happened. There's nothing to fucking solve. When it's left up to your own belief system, and then sprinkled with 'happily ever after', you've just been fucked up the ass with a philosophy you could've figured out yourself.

I understand the Gnostics behind it, in that there are several versions of the Matrix. Reality can never be truly defined. Peace can be achieved through talking it out -- wait, what? Looking past the DBZ fight of epic proportions, it seems that a humanist approach to war was being pushed. How charming.
Agent Smith, the ultimate nihilist, death personified, vs Neo the existential positivist. And he wins by having the courage to accept his fate (that he and Smith are the yin-yang, beginning-end) and die.

Yeah, okay. Thanks for taking a shit on the series while using a page out of Kojima's book while you rehash dialogue and plot, guys.

I have greased the mechanics to my own downfall
A weird habit of mine is to tear off the labels for condiments I place in the fridge. This primarily applies to jelly (who doesn't put jam spread into the fridge, eh?) and for this entries sake: mayonnaise. I'll readily admit the unhealthy amounts that I use when applying mayo. It got to one point that the offending condiment looked much like icing on a cake after I had placed it on a sandwich.
And lo, how I lap it up. Sweet nectar of the Gods.

Well, on a drunken stunt to Winn-Dixie one idle night, I mistook judgement and bought Hellman's mayonnaise that had a lot of lemon/citrus extracts, giving it a 'tangy' taste. I can tell you right now that I like my mayo how I like my sex: Bland. Just substantial enough to give my sandwich that creamy taste it needs to go down easy. Wow. That metaphor is fucking twisted.

I didn't throw it away after that one use, however. Instead I stared with disgust until I eventually ripped the label off, almost in the same act that soldiers receive a dramatic demerit in the military by losing their patch. I then horded it on the handy little shelf in my fridge and forgot about it.

Long story short: I bought regular mayonnaise today and used it once for tuna, subconsciously ripped the label, put it away while distracted, and hours later I find myself in a terrible predicament to figure out just which one is the GOOD mayo. They are SIDE BY SIDE, friends. What cosmic joke is this.

I don't want to run the risk of destroying a perfectly good sandwich with that abomination, but it seems to be coming down to that. Why must life be so difficult. I'm going to write angsty poetry.

Those who write advice are more fucked up than the ones that read
Apparently my brain has launched a conspiracy to make me sit here and stare at the keyboard and write instead of sleep. I'll call it even when I deprive it of oxygen this weekend in the name of alcoholism!

So I was reading Dear Abby, since she's a zombie now but still commited to doling out advice, and I came across my favorite topic. Rape! A mother had let her 16 year old daughter attend a frat party, where she drank until she felt 'woozy', a college boy had non-consensual sex with her, and this chick is calling rape. Let me be the first to call bullshit on this.

Yeah, alright. Who just lets a 16 year old go to a FRATERNITY party where it's abound with beer and sex? I think this teenager snuck in there, mommy found out about it, teenager calls drunk and disorderly conduct on her actions. Or more or less the actions of that poor boy who probably thought she was of legal consent. The whole thing stinks, but my nose has been out in the cold too long. (lolol, guess that last quote and I'll be impressed)

The entire question was riddled with open statements, and Dear Abby's successor just took the high route and agreed to the charade. But underneath that segment, some other bitch was writing in to complain about how ungodly hot her boyfriend was and that she hated the sexual appeal he brought women with his every look. What a way to brag, lady.

I wish I could head an advice column for personal problems. I'd sort them out for ya with cold efficiency. Rape story? Yeah, just go ahead and close every institution on a college campus in lieu of your valiant effort to purge the world of bad people. HELL, DON'T STOP THERE! Why don't you just end the tyrannical rule of a university itself? Do the world a favor and expose how useless education is. Yeah!

Is your boyfriend too hot for you? Just hit him in the face. You're empowered as a woman to physically harm a man AND you're taking care of that problem. Genius! I rock at this already.

And I wonder why nobody wants to live with me
The bulb in my lamp blew out. I switched my burnt bulb with TheRoommate's working bulb. They came home later and let loose some choice words before going to the store. To buy more bulbs. :D

channeling braveheart
I keep spider carcasses hanging on the wall as a way to show them who is boss.

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer was a fraud.
Fog is naturally heavy and could not have climbed to the heights needed for Santa's sleigh to travel. He wouldn't need a search light, and the fog was primarily over the North Pole. He had been doing that job for longer than Rudolph was even born, so why would a little fog be a problem?

He felt bad for Rudolph who was always teased for having a handicap. Instead of putting the reindeer down (no pun intended), he gave Rudolph a false sense of esteem in asking for help on only THE BIGGEST DAY OF THE YEAR.

Recent Additions

Jesus Drives an Echo ; non-fiction
Silent Hill Analysis ; indepth theories
My Deus Ex Machina ; an evolution

Networking Sites

hell.tln.net ; silent hill media
swim the depths ; a journal
truculent reviews ; site reviews