Due to varying changing life circumstances – my original plans to see “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” had fallen through. I was originally supposed to see “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” with fellow fans, in 3D, on “pre-opening night” (12/17), at the Arclight in Hollywood, which is like, the place to go see movies, I’m told.
These fallen through plans had left me depressed. Tickets were probably already sold out, at this point, and it seemed I’d have to wait like one of those losers who say they’ll go see it when “the crowds die down”. I won’t call those people complete morons, but I also won’t not call them that. Yeah, yeah, I get you. It’s just a major pop-cultural event that doesn’t come around very often (like every ~20 years?!) that brings people together and creates a unique energy of anticipation and shared experience with fellow humans and it doesn’t even seem like we’re going to be disappointed this time, so, sure, you’re going to WAIT FOR THE CROWDS TO DIE DOWN?!
Well, maybe I’m the complete moron, because it seems I would have been just as well off waiting for the crowds to die down. Which is depressing as fuck.
At the last minute I was surprised when a good friend invited me to come along to the Arclight on 12/17 to see Star Wars. Granted it wasn’t going to be in 3D like my original plans, but I don’t really give too much of a shit about 3D to be honest. That’s fine. At least I’d be with the crowds of true fans, the people who make such an experience as a rare Star Wars trilogy opening extra magical because they know when to clap and laugh and applaud at the right times so that the movie comes to life. I mean when I was 9 my uncle dressed up as Han Solo and we waited in line for at least four hours at the Grumman’s Chinese theater for the Phantom Menace, and everyone made a big deal over that shitty movie AS IT SHOULD BE. And again, we all knew this movie wasn’t even going to be bad this time.
I give the audience I saw “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” with one star. Light smatterings of applause upon the opening credits. No “whoops”, “hollers”, or “general cheers”. Important, devastating moments happened in the film, AND NO ONE REACTED AT ALL EXCEPT FOR ME. The entire movie going experience felt like an echo – in which the only noise other than the movie were my own claps and laughs being reverberated back to me in what was otherwise a vacuous silence. Important characters returned – ie. Han Solo, and the audience acted like they couldn’t give two shits. It’s fucking Han Solo it’s not like it’s his character in the Age of Adaline. Have some GODDAMN RESPECT AND CHEER. Also, several times I laughed out loud – loudly – and immediately realized I was the only one. I wasn’t even laughing at inappropriate moments like I sometimes normally do. This time it was just goddamn funny. Fucking laugh, assholes.
To this audience – DO YOU NOT HAVE SOULS!? Why did you even bother getting tickets for “pre-opening night”!? So you could sit judgmentally in your cool Hollywood seats and find criticism in everything and refuse to just let yourself enjoy a goddamn good traditional American blockbuster film?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Do you even like Star Wars? What are you doing here? Why did you insist on ruining the experience by not participating in the experience? Were you just a bunch of people who were going to wait for the “crowds to die down” who at the last second decided “what the hell” and bought tickets? For what? To personally spite me? That must be it, because you kind of blew it for me. I can’t imagine I’m going to have another chance like that. I mean I do plan on seeing the movie again – certainly – but by then it’s like, I’ve already lost my “The Force Awakens” virginity. I can’t get that back. Man, fuck you.
Actually, forget the one star. No stars!!
I’m not gonna play nice anymore. Dogs that bark when you’re walking by their fence need to GET THE FUCK OVER THEMSELVES!!!
I’m going to give these dogs the benefit of the doubt and assume that they’re not that stupid. I love dogs in general, partly because I think they’re pretty perceptive. So you’d think these dogs would have gotten the hint by now that this is just the way things work around here. All dogs go on walks. Sometimes you’re walking by our fence, sometimes we’re gonna be walking by your fence. It’s just simple physics.
Obviously when I am walking by a fence, I don’t give a shit about your fence. The same goes doubly so for my dog. So I seriously wish these dogs would drop their machismo bullshit and chill out and go do something more productive and less obnoxious with their time, like… daydream about chasing squirrels and eat a bone. No one cares about your property, at all. You live in a super janky yard anyway stop acting I care.
I thought of this because today Rita and I walked by a dog that was super chill and totally didn’t make a fuss when we walked by, he just did his own thing. More dogs should be like that guy.
(Just look at these smug asswipes. OH MY GOD YOU’RE DRIVING IN A TUNNEL WITHOUT ADHERING TO SAFETY PRECAUTIONS YOU MUST BE SO FREE AND LIBERATED FROM SOCIETAL CONSTRAINTS YOU ARE AN INSPIRATION TO US ALL.)
I presume no one saw The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and I further speculate that no one in their right mind gives half as much of a shit about it as much as I really fucking hate it and can’t stand it.
I read the book in high school because I HEARD IT WAS GOOD and ALSO SURPRISING FACT I WAS SOMETHING OF A WALLFLOWER MYSELF GROWING UP AND SO ONE MIGHT HAVE ASSUMED THAT IT WAS RELATABLE MATERIAL. I didn’t remember anything about the book after I had read it except that a) I actually tortured myself by reading the whole thing and b) I hated it. I remembered hating it because the main character in the book sounded like he has aspergers, a mental affliction which I have callously and shamelessly admitted I can’t stand.
I saw the movie and was quickly reminded, visually this time, about why I fucking hate this crap and I now hold the opinion that Stephen Chbosky must be some sort of self-aggrandizing child porn collector. OH BY THE WAY “CHBOSKY” WHAT ARE YOU TOO COOL CAN YOU NOT AFFORD TO BUY A FUCKING VOWEL GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE.
Here is a functional list of things I really fucking hate about this movie/book/abomination against all that is sacred:
1) dear friend? Who the fuck is this “friend”? WHO STILL FUCKING WRITES LETTERS? That’s super creepy psychopath behavior, trust me. In fact, I’m lead to believe that this main character is suffering from a major case of schizophrenic delusion and writing these things to no one because who could he be writing these letters to that would even give a shit about this kid’s mopey sensitive “I don’t fit in life is so oppressive you just don’t understand” diatribe. Guess what jerkoff, no one fit in during high school so WHY DON’T YOU JUST GET HIGH AND PLAY STAR WARS VIDEO GAMES LIKE THE REST OF US??? JESUS.
2) The main gay character is like, so annoying. Kudos to you, sir, for accepting your sexuality in the face of high school discrimination at such a young age. I’m glad those “It Gets Better” videos are doing something for you. BUT OH MY GOD YOU AREN’T LIKE SOME HOLY SAVIOR WHO WAS SENT FROM ABOVE TO TEACH US ALL A LESSON ABOUT LIVING FREELY. This character called his woodshop teacher a fascist! Is that what kids are still calling that? Woodshop? I didn’t have woodshop workshop clockshop, but nonetheless DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT FASCISM MEANS?! Yeah, maybe your teacher is a fucking dick and maybe he gives you bullshit assignments that you hate and aren’t good at but that doesn’t make him a dictator who is trying to oppress your precious sense of individuality, it just makes him some dude who never left his hometown and hates his life because he has to deal with obnoxious narcissistic kids like you on a daily basis.
3) THE REFERENCES! OH GOD THE REFERENCES! Kill me now. OH MY GOD THE SMITHS ARE MY FAVORITE BAND AND I’M 16 AND I AM SPECIAL BECAUSE I AM THE FIRST 16 YEAR OLD TO FIGURE OUT THAT MORRISSEY IS TOTALLY AWESOME. “Oh my god! They’re playing like, actually good music!” they squeal with delight as “Take On Me” plays for the bazillionth time in a high school auditorium. I think the book is supposed to take place in the late 90s but WHATEVER STILL because the 80s weren’t that long ago! Great, you figured out how to recycle old pop music and reclaim it as “cool” because you weren’t even a fetus when it was made, so you could really have no concept of exactly how mainstream all this bullshit you think is so “indie”. YOUR UNIQUE PERSONA CRAFTED FROM WHAT IS ESSENTIALLY JUST GOOD MUSIC THAT EVERYONE WHO LISTENS TO MUSIC HAS HEARD IS HACKNEYED CLICHED BULLSHIT. I am basically just trying to say that kids in high school aren’t special.
3b) like Rocky Horror Picture Show! Stephen Chbosky was like “Hey, I know what high schoolers like, they like feeling original!” “Hm, I’m a weird man in his 30s who isn’t a good writer but who knows how to use cliches and tired coming of age tropes to my advantage! I know! Let me just write a shittier version of Catcher In The Rye and punch it up with fun modern references of originality!” “Google search: What are all the cool unique kids into these days!?” “Google: Uhh… mostly they’re just the same old shitty things like that have sentimental motifs like mix tapes and playing truth or dare. Also yeah, The Smiths, The Smiths speak to them.”
4) Oh, right, the main kid is terrible. In general, I am so tired of young sensitive pussy assholes being portrayed as these tortured romantic souls who are just pining hopelessly after that manic pixie dream girl. OH MY GOD IF ONLY SHE STOPPED DATING ASSHOLES! I am so tortured! Why doesn’t she just like me because I’d love her and NOT treat her like crap UGH I’M JUST SUCH A NICE GUY! I’m 14! OH GOD SHE IS SO DUMB BECAUSE SHE DATES GUYS WHO TREATS HER LIKE SHIT AND DOESN’T NOTICE ME! Yes, this is the plight of women. Women obviously hate themselves because they date the wrong guys and ignore sensitive ones! But maybe these sensitive guys should start checking themselves and their aspergers and grow some fucking balls and stop pining and start doing shit. And maybe she’s dating those asshole guys because they have some sense of confidence, and whatever, confidence is hot. Get some confidence and an Ed Hardy shirt for fucksake and stop wearing that gay-ass suit. No one gives a shit that “all writers wore suits” you look like a fucking jackass. Besides, sensitive brooding dudes always bail as soon as things get too real because they’re all into hating themselves and ruining good things they could have because being ~*tortured*~ is their MO. They ain’t no heros. Therefore — tired of this movie trope. Yeah, I’m looking at you too Zach Braff.
5) I think that’s it. Even if there was more I think that was as much anger as I had in the tank. Fuck this movie up the ass.
6) Afterthought: I think it’s revealed at the very end that the main character was molested by his Aunt. I think that’s just creepy and sort of a weird addendum to this “coming of age” story. “Ugh high school is the worst I am so unpopular and awkward! also I was molested by my Aunt.” HELLO. ISN’T THAT LIKE THE ENTIRE STORY THEN? So if Stephen Chbosky would like any of my constructive criticism on his bestselling book/movie I’d like to offer that there should either be more Aunt molesting or no Aunt molesting, the current amount of Aunt molesting was weird and begged for further questions.
Coca-Cola is the fucking worst. Why? Should I be mad at them because they have successfully created some sort of poisonous yet delicious beverage that I am helplessly addicted to? Probably. Indeed, their secret combination of rat poison chemicals is one I am loathe to ever give up, despite my full awareness that it could lead to my very demise.
And yet, I am not upset at all at Coke for these transgressions.
Today though, they crossed the line.
Look at this fucking bullshit. What the fuck is this? LOOK AT THESE CANS. Particularly, look at these cans, SIDE BY SIDE. Imagine these cans INSIDE A VENDING MACHINE. It is easy to see, I’d like to think, how one could at first, not-paying-that-much-attention glance CONFUSE these cans as being one in the same.
And yet, they are not.
If you observe closely, when you make a side by side comparison and REALLY check out the details, you will note several differences between these two cans of coke.
1. One has polar bears.
2. One is a slightly different shade of silver than the other.
3. ONE HAS FUCKING 140 CALORIES!!!
So you’ll imagine my surprise when I went to purchase “diet coke” and received instead fat coke. What am I supposed to do with fat coke? Drink it? You want me to drink 140 calories of what is ultimately corn syrup which is probably only a little bit better than the rat poison I was initially planning on consuming? What if I gained weight? Let’s not talk about the entire Domino’s pizza I ate by myself last night. But no. I won’t. I won’t stoop to drinking regular fucking coke.
So what am I expected to do then? Well, I did it. I sprung for another fucking 85 cents just so I could have the diet that was RIGHT NEXT TO THE VERY SIMILAR LOOKING REGULAR COKE BUT ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME SERIOUSLY COCA-COLA YOU ARE A MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR CORPORATION DIDN’T YOU THINK THIS MIGHT CONFUSE SOME OF YOUR CUSTOMERS WHO HAVE INSOMNIA AND DON’T GET A LOT OF SLEEP SO THEY RELY ON YOUR CAFFEINATED PRODUCTS TO GET THEM THROUGH THE DAYS?
I am a little disgusted with what I am now perceiving as an obvious ploy on the part of the coca-cola corporation to get me to waste even MORE of what is already my bad habit of wasting money on their products. I am a slave to their will, as evidenced by the fact that I have been driven to this kind of madness where I must justifiably make choices like buying two cans of coke at once from a vending machine because one was disguised as a Diet can of coke in some sort of bullshit holiday bullshit.
I now am in possession of a can of regular holiday Coca-Cola which I will not myself consume. Perhaps I will pay it forward to someone in need, someone who can’t regularly afford cans of Coca-Cola. Yes, perhaps then I will teach the Coca-Cola corporation a lesson. I will show them that I am above their con artistry, and that despite their deceiving ways I am charitable. That’s what they say you know. Treat others as you wish to be treated. So there Coca-Cola. Maybe you think you got the best of me, but little did you know I happen to be a very generous person, and so I can only hope that you learned a thing or two about the good will of humanity. Yes, I can only hope.
The following is an account of all the unwanted advice and feedback I have received in the past few months:
10. “You should go into advertising! I know someone who you remind me of and she is in advertising, therefore you’d be perfect for advertising!” – someone who doesn’t know me
9. “I’m just saying this so you know for the future, regardless of what job you end up in, but never ever start an argument at work.” – someone who started an argument with me at work
8. “You would really like acid!” – someone who takes a lot of drugs
7. “Be open to trying something you don’t think you’d like, you may just be surprised! Be flexible, you don’t need to know exactly what you want to do with the rest of your life right now!” – someone who is working at a job they hate
6. “Know exactly what you want to do with the rest of your life, people don’t want to have to babysit you and help you figure out your career! You need clarity!” – someone who obviously didn’t hear that other advice
5. “Enjoy being single and hook up with a lot of dudes! You’re young, you don’t know what you want!” – someone who doesn’t know how many dudes I’ve been with
4. “Hook up with that dude! You’re not getting any younger!” – someone who knows nothing about that dude
3. “Call that dude you hooked up with! If you don’t you’re setting feminism back 50 years!” – someone who is gay
2. “Stop thinking about that guy you hooked up with! If you don’t you’re going to be setting feminism back 50 years!” – someone who talks a lot about people they hook up with
and most to my dismay:
1. “SMILE!” – too many strangers, usually old men, who aren’t actually smiling themselves, and I am always doing something innocuous like standing still in one spot
THINGS I HAVE ACCOMPLISHED IN LIGHT OF THIS ADVICE:
1. Managed to make no discernable progress in my career.
2. Set feminism back 50 years.
Previously, I mentioned my annoyance towards Psychology Today.
Today, I remain annoyed with Psychology Today, but for entirely new reasons.
Psychology Today has most recently taken it upon themselves to enlighten we dullards about the concept of beauty.
The magazine astutely points out that men like hot chicks. Apparently those who thought men didn’t like hot chicks were wrong!
While we wish things were different, we’d best accept the ugly reality: No man will turn his head to ogle a woman because she looks like the type to buy a turkey sandwich for a homeless man or read to the blind.
In an interesting study, Amy Alkon goes on and on about the subject of beauty. Hey folks! Men like fertile women, so you know, like young women with big eyes, clear skin, and child bearing hips. So if you want to get laid (and be worth anything in our society) then you better get some fucking eyeliner and a belt to accentuate your waist!
But looks matter a great deal. The more attractive the woman is, the wider her pool of romantic partners and range of opportunities in her work and day-to-day life. We all know this, and numerous studies confirm it—it’s just heresy to say so.
What if you don’t give a shit about men? Well, too bad, still. Even though you are clearly a hairy feminist, you will still suffer the harsh reality of never getting a job or, frankly, the respect of other human beings.
Last, even if you have a boyfriend, apparently you should still be worried!!!!! (He will probably leave you for someone hotter.)
A woman needs to come up with a workable routine for maintaining her looks throughout her lifetime and avoid rationalizing slacking off— while she’s seeking a man and after she has one. Yeah, you might have to put five or ten extra minutes into prettying up just to hang around the house. And, sure, you might be more “comfortable” in big sloppy sweats, but how “comfortable” will you be if he leaves you for a woman who cares enough to look hot for him?
In any case, you can read the article and decide its worth for yourself. As for me, here is a functional list of bullet points as to why I find this infuriating enough to blog about:
- NO FUCKING SHIT ASSHOLE. People are attracted to “attractive” people. You really needed a field of “science” to figure that out?
- The tone of it is more appropriate for Cosmopolitan, with it’s condescending conclusions. Really, Psychology Today? I guess you just won’t be happy until you join the crowd of marketing trash aimed at making women feel like worthless pieces of shit.
- The whole thing about “why don’t you just fucking take five minutes and put on some goddamn eyeliner” bit upsets me as well. Honestly, I do fucking love sweats, and so fuck you. I don’t want to be with a man who can’t appreciate me for anything except how I look. In my estimation, if I am with a man who can’t stand to see me without makeup and skanky clothes, then I am not with a great man. I am probably with a shallow asshole. Instead, I prefer the company of men who are, you know, genuine human beings who understand women have personalities and aren’t just fucking walking sex dolls. If “my man leaves” because I am thinking about other things than makeup, then honestly, good riddance.
- This article can go to hell. I understand that she concludes with some bullshit remark about, “just put on a little makeup and make an effort, but don’t go overboard” but it’s still obnoxious shit that continues to perpetuate something all women are already hyper-sensitive and self-conscious about to begin with. This article does not enlighten anyone or shed light on any relevant issues that women might have been previously uninformed about. Instead it just re-instills a previously existing anxiety in women to be valuable to men before they consider being valuable to themselves. FUCK THAT NOISE.
- Last, fuck this article in the fucking butt, because the woman who wrote it looks like this:
In an attempt to educate myself, I decided to read Psychology Today, which produced such uplifting gems as, “Why wait for marriage? Do it before you’re too old, like 30. Don’t do something stupid like ‘wait to get your career started’ because then you’ll never meet anyone good again” and more notably “Fuck you, science says there’s no afterlife and I don’t know why you’re being such a fucking cry baby about it because logically it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, what, it wasn’t such a big deal before you were born.”
Therefore, it seems my quest to learn more about anxiety and depression is working. That is, I at least have several scientific sources that reaffirm my cynical viewpoint and current existential crisis.
“Vladimir Nabokov, [said] that ‘our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness’. Brains that think otherwise – brains that deny they are brains and believe instead that they are eternal souls – are brains that hold false beliefs about themselves.”
Well, Jesus Christ. I guess.