Holy $#%*! Read this $*#*&^! Blog!

So, I was looking at my stats today because I like to look at the map on there.  Some person in Russia read my blog and I find this amusing because I think he (or she!) probably thinks I'm on some sort of drug which is illegal here but definitely legal in Sweden.  Incidentally, no one from Sweden reads my blog.  Yet.  Anyways! That has nothing to do whatsoever with what I'm going to write about today! The title is catchy, right? People want to read it because it may contain foul language.  Even people who don't like foul language will want to read it because they will want a reason to feel angry and self-righteous.  DISCLAIMER:  NOT ALL PEOPLE WHO DISLIKE BAD LANGUAGE FEEL THIS WAY.  But most do.  No, I'm kidding.  Not really.  No, I am.  Moving on.

I love having the bad language conversation with people because I use very bad language and yet my grammar is pretty spot on most of the time.  I like the term "conversation enhancers" which I'm pretty sure came from an episode of Spongebob Squarepants.  Anyways, my good grammar is always peppered (cajun style) with pretty foul words.  I try to limit myself according to the situation, of course.  This conversation has never happened in church, for example:

ME:  Ok, so let me tell you guys this story.
(YOU)GUYS:  Sure! Let's hear it!
ME:  So, I was going to meet some of my friends and I walked in carrying my bible and shit...

Actually, this conversation did happen in church but I wasn't the one telling the story.  I was a bystander.  A very amused bystander because the other bystanders missed the point of the story completely because they were horrified by the word "shit".  I missed the point, too because I was too busy laughing which is why I can't reproduce the rest of it above.  However, I have been told on occasion (and these occasions happen frequently) that I find humor in inappropriate things.  But I want to know why.  I mean, why is "shit" a bad word? Who decided this? Is there a bad word committee? Can I be part of it? I'm asking because that would be the best job ever.  Can the bad word committee just pick any word to be a bad word? Can Lady Gaga be a bad word? Not just a bad word just a bad everything.  All around badness there.  Actually, here is a fun and educational fact.  "Bad" language is really just "vulgar" language because back when those words were classified as "vulgar" they were words used by poor people or commoners.  So, basically the rich people decided which words were considered "vulgar".  There's a neat little piece of knowledge that none of us will ever need to draw upon but it's still fun to know things.

Now, though "vulgar" words are bad because they symbolize things that are vulgar (I guess?) and I did learn in communications class that words are symbols.  I think.  I could be wrong.  I'm sure if my communications professor ever reads this she will say, "You learned nothing!".  Anyways, "shit" means "poo".  Why isn't poo a bad word? Because it's funny.  It is also fun to say! Also, saying "excrement" makes you sound like a douche.  But think about "every day" phrases that incorporate these "bad" words.  Can you help but wonder where they come from? "I don't give a shit".  "That guy is an asshole".  "You, sir, are a huge dick."  "She is such a bitch!"  And the most mystifying phrase of all, "F*** you." (see, even I have this invisible line I feel uncomfortable crossing and this is all academic! sort of).  Really? F*** you? Why is that even an insult? Why is it even a phrase that you would say to anyone?  I mean other than someone you find irresistibly attractive.  These are the things I think about and it worries me sometimes that I occupy my time with stuff like this but usually I just end up thinking "F*** it" and continue.  There is no meaning to this madness if you take the meaning literally.  Try taking these phrases literally the next time you hear them.  You will experience hours of entertainment.  I promise. 

And! what about words that used to be considered bad but aren't really considered bad anymore? Like "Piss" or "Pissed".  "That pisses me off."  It just sounds more serious if you say that instead of saying "That makes me very angry.  More angry than other stuff.  It makes me soooo angry that my anger at other things looks like mild irritation."  Dude, just say "I'm pissed off!"  Or you can say, "I'm really f***ing pissed!"  See? Conversation enhancement in action.  When I was a kid the word "pissed" was a very dirty word.  I did not know the rules of bad words when I was four.  My brother taught me that one.  I was excited that I had learned a new word! Not only had I learned a new word, I knew what it meant.  I had to share my discovery with the one person who would be super excited that I had learned something new! So, I ran into the kitchen where my mother was cooking dinner and I shouted at the top of my lungs, "MOMMY! I GOTTA GO TAKE A PISS!" And so, I learned two new things that day.  A new word and what happens when we say those words in front of our parents.  But now, "pissed" isn't really considered that bad of a word.  Granted, some people may consider it bad but it just isn't.  And I say, "Who cares?"  I don't really say that because I wouldn't go to a job interview and say, "Can you excuse me a moment? I need to go take a piss".

People will say (and I mean stupid people who obviously don't spend enough time thinking about this stuff) "It isn't the word, it's the emotion behind the word".  If that's the case then wouldn't any word you used in that situation be "bad"? If you fall asleep in the shower and hit your head on that little built-in soap dish (true story), and you say "Holy crap! That hurt a lot!" (and I say a lot because I learned from my favorite blog over there, hyperboleandahalf that "a lot" is much different than "alot") anyways, where was I? In the shower.  Hit your head, you say "Gosh darnit! That hurt!".  Your emotion is still the same whether you say that or say "Mother f****er!".  So, wouldn't saying "crap" or "darnit" be just as bad as saying anything else? If you opt to call someone a "jerk" as opposed to "asshole" isn't the connotation still just as negative? And before you ask me, "If that's the case why not just say jerk? Why say the bad word?" Well, that is simple.  "Asshole" gets the point across much better than "jerk".  "Jerk" is just a little more passive than "asshole", isn't it? I mean, you should always make sure your audience gets your full meaning.  And there's a distinction that should be made between jerks and assholes.  The guy that let's his dog "poo" on your lawn is a jerk.  The guy who says things like "the holocaust never happened" is an "asshole".  Be sure you recognize the difference.

The point is...well, there isn't one really.  I was just sitting here thinking about all this shit and decided to share it with you.  I'm glad we could waste all of our time together. 

The Blog about Blogging (aka I feel like I need to write something this week but I have nothing to write about)

This post might actually change course as I am writing because I have nothing to actually write about and this makes me sad.  It makes me sad because I feel that this is a direct result of my having no life.  If I blogged right now at this minute about what is going on in my life I would blog about sitting in front of my computer while The George Lopez show plays on Nick at Nite and I play the Sims and sometimes say (to myself) "Omg, my sims dogs are so cuuuute while my real dogs give me the mental doggie finger.  In other words, my life is very dull and uneventful.  So, what is actually going on in my life:

School:  The semester is coming to a close.  Thank God because I don't think I could stay awake for one more class of anything.  Unfortunately, all of my professors have decided to go for one last hoorah and assign "projects".  They look different for every class.  Economics:  power point presentation on Fiscal Policy.  Statistics:  a "tech" assignment.  A tech assignment is a ridiculously difficult project which must be done on "minitab", a slightly more confusing version of Excel.  Yay.  Spanish:  Ok, I don't really have a project to do for Spanish but seriously, what would that even be like? And for P.E. (yes.  I am taking p.e. this semester) I have to do a paper on syphilis.  This is probably going to be my favorite project just because when I announce what my project was over I get to say, "I have syphilis".  I apologize to any readers who actually have syphilis.  I realize that it is not a laughing matter.  But in my defense it is kind of your fault that you have it.  Anyways, it could be worse.  Joe has to get up and list all the negative effects of marijuana.  I would have a difficult time with this sort of project so I feel a little sorry for Joe.  Unless I could say, "Marijuana is most likely going to make me not give a damn for failing this project", I got nothin'.

Work:  Work is fun because I got laid off from the Video-Rental-Store-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named-In-So-Much-That-My-Severance-Contract-Forbids-Me-From-Speaking-Badly-About-Said-Chain (I honestly feel they should rethink the name) and have since then landed a job at the Bookstore-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Just-In-Case.  I go to work.  I shelve books.  While I'm shelving books I get asked questions like "Do you work here?" and then I look at them like they're retarded for just a split second before smiling and saying "Yes.  How may I help you?" I mean, I've never gone into a random store and just started stocking shelves.  Who does that? Well the people who work there, of course.  When my boss feels I need to be punished, she puts me in the music department where there are no customers.  But I'm not allowed to do anything else but stand there for however many hours, counting the lights in the ceiling.  There are well over 20.

Home:  I come home where I clean up the trash that my main dog, Zoe has dragged out of either the kitchen garbage can or the bathroom garbage can and, depending on which it was I clean up the vomit of my emergency back up dog, Alice which resulted from whatever trash she ate before I got home.  I then sit in front of my computer contemplating starting one of my projects and play the Sims, instead.  Playing the Sims is like directing a soap opera.  For me, anyways because there are always cheating Sims.  The husband cheats on the pregnant wife and my reaction to this (even though I am in complete control over all of it to begin with) is:  "Gasp! Bastard! She is totally divorcing you, buddy."  And then they get divorced.  Or I drown him in the pool.  Take that, cheater! Sometimes I have company.  This motivates me to clean, but only a little bit.  Honestly, we only need to use one couch for sitting so the clean laundry can stay on the other couch.  Who's going to use it? No one.  They should probably eat before they get here so there is not really a need to do any dishes as long as I have clean glasses for drinks.

This is my life in a nutshell.  It's depressing but still slightly intriguing that I can write this much about such a sad subject.

Changing of the Guard

I have noticed an interesting (and slightly worrisome) development in the lives of my dogs recently.  Zoe, my main dog is deferring to Alice, my emergency back-up dog and this bothers me.  When Alice first arrived in our household she was so cute and little and Zoe just...absolutely hated her.  Alice is stubborn and headstrong and never learns, or rather doesn't care to learn.  Zoe had no problem putting her in her place.  I was proud of her.  Zoe is afraid of everything (including her new water bowl.  You know, the kind that look like those office water coolers? Zoe drinks a lot of water so I bought her this water cooler type bowl to keep from having to fill it up every five seconds.  The first time Zoe drank out of it, it bubbled and now she's terrified of it) but when it came to Alice, she was queen.  Any time Alice challenged her, Zoe would beat her ass and then life would resume and Alice would stay out of her way for a few weeks.

When I would play with Alice, Zoe would intervene by pushing Alice out of the way.  Now, Zoe kind of lingers in the corner with a dejected, broken-hearted look on her face, whimpering pitifully until I call her over.  Even then she hesitates.  It makes me a little sad.  Alice couldn't be happier with the current situation.

I didn't actually notice anything until this morning (afternoon) when Alice woke me up by standing on my face.  After some yelling and convulsing, I noticed that Zoe was not on the bed.  She wasn't even in the room.  So, I called her.  She comes into the room, looking anxious and excited as though summoned by God.  What happened next can only be described as some sort of doggie King of the Hill game wherein the bed was the hill and I was simply part of the terrain.  Zoe would approach the left side of the bed and Alice would pounce (not "go".  Alice never simply "goes" anywhere) to that side of the bed and stand right at the edge, daring Zoe to try and advance further.  Zoe is kind of stupid, but she's bright enough to understand that there is another side to the bed.  So, she walks around to the other side (which would be the side I'm laying on) and Alice would pounce on that side of the bed (or more accurately, on me).  This goes on for a several minutes until Zoe entreats me for intervention via pitiful whimpering at which point I shoo Alice off the bed and Zoe creeps over to me and lays down for some consolation and snuggles.

So, there is a shift of power in my household right now.  Out with the old, in with the new I guess.  Poor Zoe.  I wonder if getting a cat would put things in perspective for Alice...

Optimism vs. Pessimism vs. Realism - NOW WITH (unrelated) ILLUSTRATIONS!

I learned in journalism class that people don't like to read.  Well, they don't like to read huge blocks of text.  You people apparently need pictures for stimulation purposes, so in this post I'm going to throw in some pictures here and there to try and keep your attention.  No, there will be no nudie pictures.  I'm not talking about that kind of stimulation, you sickos.  These pictures may or may not be related to what I'm actually writing but that is just because I'm lazy and I don't feel like finding/creating pictures to go along with what I'm saying.

So, I've been told that I am a very pessimistic person and I resent that because I like to think of my pessimism as realism.  And realism often gets labeled as pessimism which is hardly fair.  Though honestly I tend to take my realism with a chaser of pessimism from time to time. 

Everyone's favorite way to figure out if someone is a pessimist or an optimist is to ask them if the glass is "half empty" or "half full".  But doesn't that really just depend on the situation? Suppose you're pouring beer into the glass and you stop half way.  Wouldn't the glass be half full? As in, "Bartender, what the hell? My glass is only half full.  I know it's $1 mug night but come on."  If you are drinking the beer and you stop at the half way point, wouldn't the glass be half empty? And couldn't half empty be a good thing some times? "Well, it's true I've had 15 mugs of beer but look...my 16th mug is only half empty."  You still have half a mug left! Awesome!

Aren't some of these "optimistic" people pessimistic, too? If little Johnny is playing in the street they would say "Get out of the street!" and little Johnny says, "Why?" And they say, "Because you'll get hit by a car!" Well! That is a pretty pessimistic thing to say! It is horrible to think of little Johnny getting hit by a car! Why would you even think like that, all negative? It is possible that little Johnny wouldn't get hit by a car and by the optimists standards shouldn't we be focused on the positive and hope for the best? I find it slightly hypocritical because I think most people would say little Johnny shouldn't play in the street because he might get hit by a car.  With that said, a true optimist would let little Johnny play in the street and believe that everything is going to work out fine.  And so, optimism is irresponsible.  And you should be ashamed, letting young children play in the road like that.

Now, pessimism can actually be healthy unlike the deadly optimism which we have just discussed.  Good surprises are good and bad surprises are not good.  I think we can all agree on that.  BUT! If you are expecting a bad surprise then it isn't a surprise because you were already expecting it.  If you expect the worst then when the worst happens you are hardly even phased.  But if you expect the best and get the worst then you are all sad and depressed.  If you expect the worst and get the best YAY! It's like Christmas! If you expect the best and get the best, how is that even fun at all? You say "I knew it was going to work out that way" therefore making you sound like a huge douche.

So, remember kids - Optimism is irresponsible and hates children and probably puppies and kittens, too.  Realism is logical.  Pessimism is mostly used to piss off optimists and that is why it is so much fun. 

The Philosophy of Ritz

So, here is a common misconception born of false advertising:  "Everything Tastes Better on a Ritz".  Think about that.  There is no way that can be true.  Now, there are some things which you should never put in your mouth (much less on a Ritz) but that is not mentioned as a stipulation.  Take poo for example.  Despite the delicious butter flavor of the Ritz, poo would still taste horrible on a Ritz cracker.  But, would it taste better, you may ask.  Well, no.  The Ritz could do nothing to ever improve the taste of poo.  I think that Nabisco is really setting themselves up for litigation here because what if some idiot (and there are a lot of those about) decides to take that advertisement literally and says to himself, "Excellent! This broken glass will taste excellent on this Ritz!" and then he sues Nabisco because he has some slight internal bleeding? Would he lose his case given the high probability of scientifically proving that broken glass might not taste good (or even be edible) but it does taste better on a Ritz.  After further thought, I confess that if I had to eat poo, I would rather eat it on a Ritz than not. 

And there is also the condition of the Ritz to consider.  What if it is a moldy Ritz (assuming that Ritz can grow mold)? Wouldn't cheese on a moldy Ritz actually taste worse? Is Nabisco assuming you are going to always have a good Ritz on hand? Cheese is a mold anyways, so does that factor in at all?

Speaking of which (not the cheese being a mold but the part just before that), what about those things that would actually taste worse with a Ritz? What about ice cream? Does ice cream taste better on a Ritz? Beer? Gummi Bears? What if the ice cream, beer, and gummi bears were all Ritz flavored? Would the most delicious meal ever taste even better on a Ritz? And if it is the "most delicious meal ever" is it not possible that it is already on a Ritz? It would have to be.  Considering that, wouldn't the "most delicious meal ever" be a Ritz on a Ritz?

What if you put a Ritz on a Ritz? Would that Ritz taste better because it was on another Ritz? Is that even possible? If you had a huge pile of Ritz and just ate the top one would you be able to discern the difference in the quality of taste of the Ritz on the top and the Ritz on the bottom? If everything tastes better on a Ritz then it stands to reason that if you put a Ritz on a Ritz the Ritz on the Ritz must taste better than it did before it was put on the Ritz.  What if you put a Ritz on a Ritz but then, right before you eat them, you flip them over?! Then what? If you eat two Ritz (Ritzes?) together do they appreciate in flavor equally or does one taste better than the other? What if you take the Ritz off the other Ritz? Does it immediately devolve to the level of taste it was at before it was put on the Ritz or is the status affect permanent?

Like so many deep philosophical questions out there, we may never learn the answer to the mystery of the Ritz.  And so, to make sure that this post is the absolute best it can be, I am putting it on a Ritz.

Quest for the Perfect Steak

When I was a kid my dad would cook steak for dinner almost every weekend.  My mom would always get her steak well done and then I would eat part of hers.  I will never forget the day  that my dad gave me part of his rare steak.  My steak eating days were changed forever! It was like...going from Hershey to Godiva, from Wal-mart to Bloomingdales, from...from...from Star Trek to STAR WARS! It was fabulous.  I picked it up with my little fingers and juice ran down my hand and wrist and it all but melted in my mouth and it was absolutely the best thing I had ever eaten in my life.  I never shared a steak with my mother again. 

It was an important rite of passage in my life, this transition of well done to rare and I have to confess since then I have become something of a steak "snob".  When the waitress asks if I need steak sauce my response is always "I hope not" because a good steak shouldn't need sauce.  A steak cooked beyond medium is a ruined steak.  Although there are less than a dozen good things I can say about my dad, the one thing I can say is that he could make the perfect steak.  Unfortunately, my dad has since become something of an...how should I put it...ass? Yes, that seems appropriate and so I am always on the journey to find the perfect steak seeing as how I can't really ask him how he does it.

I have recently given up on marinades because all the ones I have used make the steak taste like, well...marinade and not like actual steak.  I've tried Dale's (ugh, I know.  Who farted, right?), worstershire(?), and once I even tried Jack Daniels, which was horrible since I like my steak rare and it tasted like a glass of Jack Daniels with some meat thrown in it.  Today I went with just plain old salt and some fresh ground pepper.  This was not actually bad, especially the pepper so on my next attempt I'm going to stick with that but it was still missing something.  I'm starting to think that the thing I'm missing can't actually be replicated and that thing is one of the very few fond memories I have of my childhood.  It's the same reason why my biscuits never taste like my mother's (that and haha, you should see me trying to make homemade biscuits.  My kitchen always ends up looking like the set of The Day After Tomorrow.  I try to ask my aunt for the particulars of making biscuits and she always says, "You just add buttermilk until it looks right."  How is that even close to instructions?).  I also have very unhelpful friends (who shall remain NAMErobinLESS) have the following conversations with me:

Me:  I think I'm going to cook steak for dinner tomorrow.  I'm still trying to figure out a way to make them   really good.
 Friend:  My dad just gave me the recipe to his super secret steak marinade recipe.  It's fantastic.
 Me:  Ooo! What is it?
 Friend:  I can't tell you.  It's a secret.
 Me:  Ok, really? You can't just jump in the conversation and say something like that and then not tell.  What is it? 
Friend:  No.  It's super secret.

So, I'm going to start preparing for next month's steak adventure.  The adventures only happen once a month because I'm poor.  I might switch from ribeyes to NY strips, though I haven't decided on this part yet.  I'm going to take suggestions, too assuming that anyone out there thinks they can make the perfect steak.

 

Alice, The Ninja Dog

So, I have two dogs.  Zoe, who is my main dog and then Alice who is my emergency back-up dog.  Alice is still in training because she likes to do things like eat my underwear and take entire loaves of bread off the kitchen counter and eat that, too.  True story.  An entire loaf of bread.  Needless to say, at bedtime Alice gets locked away in a crate.  Lately, though Alice has been getting better so I decided I would try out new sleeping arrangements for her.  Instead of sleeping in her crate, I decided to see how Alice would do with a little freedom.  She's actually doing quite well, though she hasn't learned the rules of sleeping in the bed.  Zoe has her sleeping "spot".  It's at the foot of the bed on the opposite side of where I sleep.  I designated the other half of that side of the bed for Alice.  She is having trouble comprehending that this is her place.

Unfortunately, Alice takes every advantage to lay on me.  Whether I'm in the bed or on the couch or even in a chair, she has this need to be on me.  And she's not really a small dog so this can get a little aggravating.  When she's not doing that she's bounding after you like a possessed bulldozer intent on death and destruction.  Unlike other dogs, Alice doesn't come up to you and jump on you.  Oh, no.  That's no fun at all.  Alice likes to leap at you from at least two feet away, plowing into your stomach.  She need structure and discipline but she is completely uninterested in either of these things.

After making sure that she understands that I am serious about these new sleeping arrangements, it is time to turn the lights out and go to sleep.  All is quiet for about five minutes, and then I feel her move and then it gets still.  I figure she's just getting comfortable.  Then I feel her move again.  Then it is still again.  Then again.  I can't help but become a little suspicious.

After another pause I feel a slow, gradual shift and then WHAM! She's on top of me again.  At this point, I'm very tired and I really want to get some sleep so I decide I need to be very firm.

There it is.  She is going to understand now and since I am the master of this household (or mistress, if you will) she is going to obey me because she is my dog and I am her master.