Kittens and Carbonite: This Nerd is Irritated.

I couldn't find a picture that I really liked of girls in all shapes and sizes, so here's a picture of Bruce Campbell. You're welcome.

Awhile ago I had posted something lamenting on the fact that I get challenged a lot by guys regarding my nerdocity. I have thought in the past that was true, then my twitter feed exploded in nerd chaos yesterday.

Apparently, a female comics fan believes that “being a girl and liking comics is no longer taboo.” She also continued to rant about how batting “your lashes while feigning embarrassment about your adorable nerdiness” seems to be encouraged by titling a blog Has Boobs, Reads Comics. She also states that she would “like to punch her [writer Jill Pantozzi] in her stupid boob.”

Months ago, Team Unicorn was under web attack (not from Peter Parker) for being “too attractive to be geeks.” An enormous controversy/discussion stirred from the female community immersed in everything nerd and it had finally felt like the storm had calmed.

But as I write this, I find myself disappointed (not in Jill). I am more disappointed in the women that feel that this is an issue. I think that with a title like Has Boobs, Reads Comics Jill cuts through the bullshit. If someone doesn’t want to read her review because she is a woman, that’s too bad because she has some incredible insight.

Does the acknowledgement of her lady parts scare away readers? I guess it’s possible. People do things that surprise me on a daily basis. I AM curious as to what the gender ratio is of those reading HBRC. Are some women jealous that another gets paid to read comics and review them for MTV? Is it employment envy or is it more?

Women seem to be the most vocal when it comes to struggling with self-esteem. With “I look so gross today” or “nobody loves me”, it is no surprise that those comments are typically referred to as fishing for a complement. When someone rages about a girl with fantastical interests being too attractive to enjoy something… That is more of an indicator as to how they feel about themselves.

Venting in such a wholly public forum like the internet means you are posting because you want someone to read it (and a sadistic part of you wants the person you’re coming down on to read it as well). Well, blogger that inspired this post… I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that you believe your fandom mentality is the only superior one. I’m sorry that you have had to deal with those fans that you determined to be the “worst customers”. I’m sorry that the majority of views on your site are for such a hateful message towards women that reads like you think that embracing who you are is wrong.

However, I’m not sorry that Jill gets paid to review the comics you have to pay for. I’m proud… and I have never met her. Geek/Nerd Girls UNITE!

Oh and by the way? I prefer Batman to Spiderman. I also have boobs.

Check out some nerdy girls that know their shit.

Tarzan is a Dick and Other Ramblings of My Coffee Addled Brain

Okay so I just wrote a blog post and said that I haven’t yet mastered the art of flight.

After all of the coffee I have sipped today I’m pretty sure I can take flight. Then I started thinking that if I can fly, I definitly need a cape. Then I wondered if a cape was aerodynamically necessary.

Okay, so maybe a cape isn’t necessary for flight. I mean, some of the coolest comicbook characters had capes. Batman, Superman, Magneto… All capes. They were all pretty badass. Is the secret to flight? Capes? Is it the Samson/Delilah conundrum? If I were to steal Magneto’s cape, would he lose the ability to fly? Probably not. He would just have to adjust to the difference in wind resistance.

Come on internet! Work! I want to see how necessary it would be. I think that if it was absolutely essential to have a cape then planes and helicopters would have capes. But if a helicopter had a cape it might get caught up in the whirly thing at the top and putting a cape at the bottom is essentially giving a helicopter a loincloth.

Come to think of it, Tarzan wore a loincloth and he did pretty well swinging through the trees. But that’s not flight. That’s just swinging. That is cheating. Tarzan is a dick.

I think flying squirrels use their excess arm skin to fly, but that’s a genetic disfigurement to give them flesh wings. I think if I lose enough weight and don’t tone my arms I can probably create human flesh wings, but that is probably something that people would talk about. “Did you see that girl with the flabby arms? Is she TRYING to fly?”

Yes you judgemental pricks. That’s exactly why I have flabby arms. I want to fly.

Okay now I want to cry and eat something. That brings me to the conclusion that gaining a bunch of weight so that I can work on the flabby arm skin is a bad idea. Until society is cool with a former fat girl flying in the air using her remarkable arm flab as wind resistance, I think I should really pick up those weights and start working on that.

I need to stop drinking coffee. Coffee makes me think crazy.

Maybe it would be cheaper (and healthier) in the long run to buy rocket boots. It’s 2011, those should be available in the next four years. But the Mayans ended the world at 2012 so it’ll be three years too late.

Of course, maybe the Mayans were just recording when the part of society that hates flabby arms will die out and everyone will be traveling by air.

I have conquered land and sea. Now to work on air. I’m like Peter Pan without those girly tights.

OH CRAP! Tights! Where can I buy flying tights?

Well Hello. I’m a Nerd. I Also Have Lady Parts.

I think it’s perfectly odd that people (mainly guys) have tested my nerdocity.

As an example, I was at a karaoke night awhile back with a bunch of my friends because two buddies popped in from Cali. I was outside trying to shake out the terror that was the super drunk guy trying to sing Blondie, when a dude outside spotted my backpack.

I like odd things. Yes, I have a backpack that is a turtle shell. It is a teenage mutant ninja turtle brand turtle backpack. Nevermind the level of awesome that it is, it is quite amazing (even though for some weird reason it smells like fish… still). It was a gift from one of my besties. She got it for me when we were rocking out Newbury Comics in Boston. Then I decided to do a cross country photo set with my turtle twin in San Francisco.

Turtle Times is Hard

Turtle Twin

Anyways, I’m outside of the pub and this guy said, and I quote “You don’t know nothing ’bout Ninja Turtles.”

My reply was singing the ENTIRE themesong, including the words that SOME PEOPLE glaze over. In the middle of my rousing rendition of the theme, he held up his hands in defeat which I ignored and completed the song.

It struck me as weird. I see all of these amazing blogs on the internet from girls that are just as (if not more) nerdy than I am. You have Action Flick Chick (who has a total lady boner for Stallone), Geek Girl Diva, Has Boobs Reads Comics, and a site for an upcoming con (that I would totally go to if I could afford but I expended my travel budget arranging to visit with some friends this year) called Geek Girl Con. Also, I have met thousands of women on the internet that have like interests and also have been blessed to have been able to contribute to a site like Nerds in Babeland.

With groups of people like Team Unicorn, with their phenominal videos, you would think that the surprise that comes when someone sees you wearing something remotely nerdy would have diminished by now.

Instead the general mindset is that “oh she’s just trying to get our attention”. Not really guys. Most of the time when I leave the house in my green lantern hoodie, I’m not looking for anyone to gape at me. As a nerd, even when I’m dressed to the nines I don’t want that either. 

I guess that because of the wide availability to order things online, people assume that everyone is just jumping on the bandwagon. I don’t even know if this is the hipster in me as I still don’t know what a hipster actually is. I might be one. I don’t know.

I guess that when some guys approach girls in nerdy clothing with a question about their favorite cut scene in Final Fantasy 7, they think they’re going to catch someone in a lie and go “AHA! I knew you had never played!” By the way, my favorite? Sephiroth in the flames. The music chosen was gorgeous and the flowing white hair made me want to get a humongous sword and bangs and a penis (Wait… What?).

I am what I like to call an “ecclectic nerd”. I am not a superfan of anything except comedy, but I enjoy many things and have a relatively good memory.

I cannot tell you in which comic where Jean Grey transitioned into Pheonix, but I remember reading it at some point. I cannot name all of the actors in Star Wars (the real ones, ya’ll), but I can probably sing the song in the Cantina. I can’t remember the time lineup for Saturday morning cartoons, except that I know the shows and the “After these messages… we’ll be right back” jingle.

I can tell you that out of everything in my childhood, I still tear up when I watch the Transformer movie EVEN though I know I should think it’s horrible. I thought Pythona should have kicked Jinx’s ass in the G.I. Joe movie. Oh, and adding Jinx into the movie just so it wasn’t dick heavy was lame.

I did things that could be considered “girly”, but that wasn’t the memories of my childhood that stick out the most. The kids in my neighborhood did a huge suburb hide and seek game that we called “Predator”.

A while back, I asked twitter followers and people on facebook what the general public considered “girly”. Here’s a few things that I got.
“little dogs, cupcakes, flowers, pink, chocolates, hearts, princesses, glitter, kittens, ruffles, bows, rainbows, polkadots, barbie, dolls, makeup, dresses, shopping, tutus, tiaras, flowers, perfume, diamonds, stuffed animals, fairies, jewelry and jellies.”

One of my followers, @LizTheCanadian said “ordering a salad”. I almost pissed my pants. I think I needed that bit of humor to break me from the bunch of stuff that doesn’t really apply to me.

Here’s what I remember from my childhood: Dragons, Jem, nighttime games, G.I. Joe, Thundercats, Transformers, Tron, Pong, Super NES, Atari, Donkey Kong, lava lamps, swimming, skiing, singing, camp, making fires, failing at putting them out, going to juvie for unintentional arson (just kidding), burning stuff with a magnefying glass, Alvin and the Chipmunks… I could go on.

Yes there were things that I did that were uber girly, but I was still very influenced with comics, video games, and for some reason I loved pens. Just black, blue and red ones. Completely mental.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, before you assume that I don’t know anything about nerdy stuff you should walk a mile in my shoes. I know nerdy things and I also wear heels. I win.


I’m Ranting but Not Actually Angry. Thank you brain.

Is depression when you recognize envy?

I have no idea what made me think of this, but it happened and I kind of hate my brain a little for plaguing me with this right before a week of stresslessness (I know spell check. It’s not a word.). I think it might have been brought about by listening to Nerdist podcast #39 (With Rainn Wilson) again.

They spend some of the podcast talking about spirituality and their own impressions of what depression is. Hardwick said that one of the things that he associates with depression is excess energy that isn’t going anywhere. Jonah Ray then told the story about the burrito – the place that “Enjoy Your Burrito” came from.

I don’t know. It’s well known that I have “suffered” from depression. I use quotes because in retrospect it doesn’t feel like I’ve truly suffered. I’m sure it felt that way when I was at my worst. But also when I look back at the times that I remember being truly depressed it was initiated by someone having something awesome happen to them. That or something so crazy terrible happened that I empathetically assigned their pain to my state of being. I realize how absolutely self centered that is.

“I’m so bummed. My best friend just lost her job.” For some reason, I think that statement is still inherently self centered. Let’s be honest. Your best friend lost THEIR job. They have to figure out how to pinch their pennies so they can afford rent for the following month while getting their resume updated, finding a temp agency, or doing what they need to do to survive. Feeling bad for someone is something that we all instinctively do. We think that in order to connect or show that we’re listening, we need to reply with “Oh that sucks” or “That’s so horrible”. But if the badness is happening to us, if we don’t hear some fucking empathy no one cares.

Ugh. I’m having such a roundabout thought stream right now.

Back to depression. When I look back to times that I felt the most depressed, it had everything to do with what I wasn’t doing and I could equate all of them to envy.

Examples – Most of these are from at least 5+ years ago. I’m still processing a lot of the stuff that I go through.

1. I loaned someone some money for them to be able to make their rent payment. When I had that conversation with them, afterwards I didn’t think about how much crow they had to eat to approach me. Instead I looked at my bank book and immediately hated myself for not completing college, for not knowing what I wanted to do with my life, for buying worthless shit whenever I had a rough day at work (and I was working for Shady Cable at the time. That job cheese grated my soul.). On top of that, I felt anger and envy (these are a few of my favorite sins) for people I deemed successful either around me or in any celebrity update. Oh good, some famous actor just bought a house for $37 Million. That would take me seventeen lifetimes to be able to afford.
2. Someone that I knew in high school had a song on the top 100 chart for the mother-fucking Billboards. How did THEY get famous while I’m sitting here going to essentially a dead end job that makes me quieter and quieter every day I leave. Instead of using my voice for singing, I’m spending eight hours of my day getting yelled at by some dick that doesn’t get to watch TV because they didn’t pay their bill for three months. Oh wait… now their song is in a commercial? In a prime time show? I mean, yeah it’s great. Good for them. *grumble*
(I actually don’t have a problem with them now. I envy that they had that experience but I’ve come to grips that I couldn’t compose a song even if there was a gun against my mother’s temple. Envy is anger over unreal expectations.)
3. Some mother fucker that I don’t even know has more Twitter followers than me (alright, this one is current). To be fair… I love all of the people that follow me. I’m still flabbergasted that I have as many as I do and who they are. I’m essentially an ego-maniac that believes I’m a big deal even though no one has really heard of me… YET. I think what I’m trying to say is get @jonahray, @mattmira, @nerdist, @wilw, @nathanfillion, and @feliciaday to follow me. I’m kidding. Kind of.
4. Pretty much whenever one of my single friends tells me they have a new significant other I’m jealous. It’s strange, because I don’t necessarily want to be in a relationship. Just because I’m alone, doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I’m not. I just see someone and assume that they’re unquestionably and utterly happy with their life. I know this is a completely deluded thought process, but I get bummed that this person has all of this happiness in their life and I’m only happy in spurts. I know that what they aren’t telling me is that not everything is perfect. Everyone has issues in their life, but if I’m having a blah day and someone else is telling me how happy they are I have to bite back a sarcastic reply. I should just be happy for someone, but it is so fucking easy to be angry.

Oh, and congratulations on your fucking baby.

Keeping the angry to yourself results in your brain saying “Hey… Hey you… Hey… fuck you. Watch this!” If your brain is similar to mine you immediately have a clip show in your brain of people doing happy things in Technicolor. Then it immediately cuts to you in sepia with a sad trombone playing and the sound of mocking laughter playing over you.

I wish that someone could tell me definitively what depression is and how it feels for EVERYONE. If someone ever did that, however, I would probably keep my anger to myself then get depressed then lash out.

I’m getting very tired of not having endings to things. From now on I’m just going to post a random thought that has nothing to do with my post.

How creepy are ducks?

Forget Work! It’s Monday! Let’s Dance.

If you were to look at my bedroom, you would think me incapable of being clean and orderly. Why? Because I don’t have to be completely anal retentive at home.

At work, however, I need everything to be in order and I completely fly off of the handle when things are moved without me being around. I call this “Selective OCD”. Although I admit that at home I’m about a newspaper stack shy of an episode of Hoarders, at work everything is in order.

Because I am constantly thrown massive amounts of information, I cannot keep all of it in my brain. That is why I put it in specific areas. I file things by level of importance/time sensitivity. I need to do that. I need to sift through a stack of papers and have three piles. The pile on the left is “shit I need to take care of immediately”. The middle stack is “stuff I should probably take care of at some point today.” The stack on the right is “this is so far away it can collect dust”.

I came in this morning to my office and it looked like office Armageddon. My immediate reaction this morning was panic. Panic that something was put in the wrong place and something was going to be overlooked and I would be held accountable for it. It might seem like extreme paranoia… it’s not.

I’m the only person doing my job for my area. Any issues are assumed to be my fault. So there’s that unwanted stress fucking me in the heart.

The following reaction was anger. The havoc made in my office was done by the company my company contracts to do floor cleanings. Of course, my company doesn’t require them to notify us when they will be coming. Instead, we show up the following day wondering three things – “have we just been robbed?”, “why are the floors so shiny?” and “why does it smell like orange melting tires?”

Every time I voice my frustration about this, I am met with the same response – “They don’t tell us when they’re coming.” Um… You know what? They should. All of the information in this office is sensitive information (not to mention corrosive materials that could melt your face off). If my employers aren’t holding their contracted people responsible, I think I might take that to heart and start following that business practice.

I’ma call it the “Do What You Want” policy. I will soon be crafting a paper hat and dancing through the office throwing shredded customer information like confetti. It’s going to be a Monday dance party.

I will also not be answering my work phone. Instead I will be assigning it rad dance party music and will be breakin’ instead of answerin’.

It’s MONDAY! What pisses you off about work?

Does It Feel Like Customer Service Doesn’t Care? It Should.

You don’t need to speak louder. I still won’t pay attention

NOW WITH RECORDING! That’s right folks! Feeling lazy? Just push play at the bottom of the post! 

I am sure everyone has dealt with customer service at some point in the last week (or maybe on a daily basis). If you are calling, chances are you are not speaking with someone that resides in the same region as you or even the same country.

That isn’t what my problem is. I don’t have a problem with someone answering my calls located in India. It sucks that on some level when you get someone with an accent unlike yours, your buttcheeks clench because you know how the call is going to go. You’re going to have to repeat yourself, they’re going to have to repeat themselves… It’s a clusterfuck of confusion.

Still not my issue. I actually consider myself to be VERY level headed when speaking to someone on the phone because I have been in that position before. Sadly, here is the truth. I am going to slide back into my former self and give you some unfortunate news in bulleted format.

Here are some reasons why customer service calls NEVER go the way you actually want them to. Some of these are strictly meant to explain cable (as that is my area of expertise).

1. The Previous Call – DUMBFACE McASSHOLESON
Regardless of what you think, you are not the first call this person has taken today, nor will you be the last. You may be a completely kind and generous person calling because you have a VALID reason to call, but that is not the case of every caller. When I worked for Shady Cable, the majority of my calls were incredibly abusive.

The calls that follow are then tainted. The representative begins every call with the assumption that there will be screaming, profanity, and blame placed on their shoulders. I don’t even mean the company’s shoulders. I mean that the person the customer has reached is Damian fucking Thorn (that’s an Omen reference for the kiddos).

I cannot tell you how many times I had been told “YOU ARE HORRIBLE AND ARE RUINING MY LIFE!” It would always flabbergast me that a complete stranger thought that they mattered enough for me to RUIN their lives by preventing them from watching reruns of Pyramid on GSN.

2. Personal Lives – ONLY HUMAN!
As much as every place you work at tells you to leave your personal lives at the door, life can hit you with unexpected twists and turns. If you have no ability to act like nothing is wrong, when you’re upset, your tone changes. Even if you are a good actor, if people call and scream at you it does get to you. I spent many an evening contemplating drawing a hot bath, sliding in, then pulling in my DVR and electrocuting myself.

3. This Is Not The Apocalypse – OUTAGES
If service isn’t working and someone depends on cable services to enrich their daily lives there is an extreme sense of entitlement.

Let me clarify. Cable services are considered entertainment and NOT a utility. Utilities are things like electricity, heat, water, phone. THOSE have priorities. If a telephone pole goes down and the cable and phone are knocked out, electric lines have priority. Following their repairs is telephone. The cable company is not allowed to work on their lines before the telephone company UNLESS the subscribers in the area have VOIP (voice over internet protocol – that is phone through cable lines). Nowadays, most people have at least one cell phone in their homes, so it is still not a priority.

A call center rep cannot say “I’m sorry you can’t watch Dr. Phil to prove to yourself that you’re more of a winner than someone else.”

Oh and for those of you reading this and going “I run my business from my home”, DO NOT mention this if you are calling a cable company. They will then say “You are paying for cable on a personal level. You should not be running a business from that. I can connect you with our Business Sales Department if you would like.” As a customer service rep, I was ELATED when I got these calls because it left the petty bitch in me with a humongous smile on my face. Fuck you. You were mean to me. You’re going to have to pay three times what you’re paying now. Ha… ha ha… ha ha ha.

The amount of money that someone is being paid in these positions is downright fucking pitiful. When I started, they offered me $10.50 an hour (in 2005). Coming from a video store where I was making $8.50/hr as an Assistant Manager, I was all “Fuck YEAH! LET’S DO THIS!”

Little did my naive mind know the amount of screaming my brain would have to endure. This “Psyche Warfare” (I’m gonna go ahead and pat myself on the back for that. I deserve it.) was only assuaged by copious amounts of alcohol. I would even try to feed my sadness at Denny’s, as my shift ended. So not only was I miserable, I was miserable WITH DIARRHEA!

5. I Understand Your Frustration – I’M NOT PAID TO CARE!
When you work at a call center, you are taken off of the phones for about fifteen minutes a month for something they call “QA”, but I call “Let me spend fifteen minutes telling you why the company thinks you are useless.” Think back to your last company review. Take that and multiply it by 12 and condense all of the hate. Your yearly review was far easier to endure than the monthly “Quality Assurance” meetings that I was required to suffer through.

“Quality Assurance” doesn’t mean what you think it does. “Quality Assurance” to Shady Cable has nothing to do with the quality of service that the customers receive from the representative. They focus on the amount of time you spend on a call, the amount of time following a call that you are unavailable to take another call, and your ability to upsell.

The amount of time I was supposed to spend on a call was around five minutes. They wanted me to verify customer identity, verify their services, then take care of whatever issues they were calling about, try to sell them something new and get the customer to release the call (because we were NEVER allowed to disconnect a call). Obviously from the length of this post, I like to use words. I typically enjoy talking to people. I really do. If they’re not total assfaces, that is.

The idle time following a call is meant to record in the customer account what it is you discussed, what the issue was, whether or not it was resolved with you, and if it was not what resolution is to follow and what steps you have taken to remedy the issue.

They liked to call the ability to upsell “bonuses” in which if you reached sales quotas that were determined by your shift, you got a little bit of extra in your paycheck that was taxed heavily. However, the sales department were the ones to get the majority of the sales as THAT WAS WHY THE CUSTOMER PUSHED THE BUTTON FOR SALES. When someone is pissed off that there is an outage, I’m pretty sure that they don’t want you to talk about the wonder of the premium channels. “Oh hey, you can’t see anything on your TV right now except for ‘NO SIGNAL FUCKWAD’? Let me tell you about Six Feet Under. A family with a funeral home! … … I can hear you flipping me off right now.”

Then you got the overwhelming joy of listening to a random call you had taken throughout the month – EVEN THOUGH you were the one speaking. They then tear down everything that you had done, have you sign a piece of paper in blood that you were aware of your shortcomings and send you back to take more calls.

Taking calls is boring. When you work 8 hours and field 90+ calls a day, you need something to take your mind off of the hum drum. Or, you had just had the call from hell and wanted to confuse the hell out of someone.

There was this guy in a cubicle near me who would take every call in a different accent. It was endlessly entertaining. His goal was to not break the accent, but if he ever did and the person on the other end of the line called him on it, he would snap at them in a completely different accent. Shortly thereafter, the call would end. I’m pretty sure the customer turned to their significant other and said “We need to find a new company. I’m pretty sure the dude I just spoke with is insane. We can’t have cable from psychopaths.”

I was contemplating sharing stories of fuckery with you in this post, but as it is ridiculously long I will post a few when I have time. The names will be changed so as to not get my ass sued.

Also, I will not tell you what cable company I worked for, as I really don’t want to poke the bear.


Tantric Entertainment No Longer Exists? I Call Bullshit.

I realize that the internet has been inundated with a plethora of blogs either blasting or praising Kevin Smith for his decision to distribute his movie Red State.

For those of you who have had your head stuck in the sand for the last few weeks (or if you’re my mom and think the Internet Explorer icon ALWAYS takes you to your facebook page), here’s the breakdown.

Red State was shown at Sundance. After the movie, Kevin made the revelation that he was going to option his own movie and release it in October after touring America with it. For some reason, there was an enormous outcry.

Since this is my blog, I will share with you my first thought after finding this out.

Finally. (Followed very closely with “That’s fucking cool.”)

Kevin has since been speaking on his various podcasts about the decision to revamp his definition of Independent films. He talked about how much money the movie took to make, how much he could have hoped to have sold it for, how much the distributor would have spent on advertising, and as he crunched the numbers he realized that in this day and age, HE COULD DO THIS.

As a consumer of all things entertainment, web or otherwise, my biggest regret is that I do not live in an area that fully embraces the spirit of Indie films. Films that aren’t backed by a multimillion dollar advertising campaign are often overlooked by the theaters near me.

I remember catching wind a few years ago that John Waters movie A Dirty Shame was coming to a theater that was an hour and a half from where I lived. I WENT TO SEE IT. TWICE.

As I look out of the window of the coffee shop that I had to come to (lest sloth overwhelm me at home), I see an empty theater. A building that was created to showcase one of the things I enjoy the most is now a husk. A faded memory of what was.

With the introduction of the Internet streaming video and the ease of locating a pirated copy of… fuck… anything? All of this opportunity to keep connected and have instant gratification with whatever it is we want to see, movie theaters prices are continuously increasing. There has not been a movie within the last three years that I have attended that was packed.

Any hope of any real profit comes from the sales following the often short lived theater stay. Remember when a movie was so high in demand it seemed to stay in theaters for months? The home movie release was held up for months in what I am now calling “tantric entertainment”. Now, if you happen to see a movie in the theaters, within two months you can download a digital copy to whatever electronic device you want.

I have to give Mr. Smith mega props for saying that he WANTS the movie to be in theaters. He could just as easily push it onto on demand and clean house quickly. But, he wants to tour to promote. He wants to reach out to his 1.7 Million twitter followers and go “I’m going to be here, here, and here. If you can’t make it, please mark your calendar for October.”

If I had the money, I would be at the NYC Premiere in a heartbeat. Or Boston. If someone wants to fund the venture I will totally go.

I have a tendency of hearing about things and thinking about things and there comes this insane moment of clarity where I can tell something is going to be big. Whether or not the movie is my cup of tea, I want to be one of the people that can say “I was there.”

Unfortunately, I will be waiting until October with the general public to watch this movie.

Oh, and since I haven’t really talked about the movie I will admit to you that the premise scares the shit out of me. Here’s a brief synopsis, and if I can embed it I will include the trailer.

Red State is about a gay-hating minister (Michael Parks) who goes on a blood-drenched rampage against an equally murderous squad of federal agents, with some sex-crazed teens stuck in the middle.

Kevin Smith said one of the most inspiring things that I have heard in quite some time during his speech. “Indie film isn’t dead, it’s just grown up.”

Punk. Fucking. Rock.

The Internet proves that we have evolved, and the original way to advertise is not-so-slowly fading into obscurity. We are the future.



Snowpocalypse: It’s Not Pretty, It’s Painful

Filling a Trash Receptacle. Where is it going to?

Yesterday, my friend Margot posted this note on her facebook page.

“Dear Facebookers in Warm Climates,

I have seen way too many “well here it is (65, 70, 75) degrees” posts in response to posts about the huge amount of snow we are getting. For future reference, getting this much snow this quickly can be compared to any other natural disaster. Businesses lose money, people’s homes are damaged, roads are closed down, etc. Since we would not post “oh it is nice and safe and dry here” in response to a hurrican or a tornado, maybe you need to adjust your responses to our snow storms/blizzards!

The Northerners”

Do you get it now folks?

For the first few storms, my response to people complaining about the snow is “If you cannot handle New England whether, perhaps you shouldn’t be fucking living in New England.”

The last few days I have been ill and yesterday I spent a few hours watching the news. The amount of reports of roofs collapsing immediately made me feel guilty for laughing at the dude shoveling his roof last Saturday. Connecticut has been fairly lucky with the incidences of roofs collapsing and not harming anyone.

It's not just little cars getting stuck. It's big cars that eat little cars.

However, there have been many calls for assistance from someone stuck in snowbanks and multiple reports every morning of a storm where eighteen wheelers have jackknifed and have taken out use of one side of a highway.

Someone almost died because he was stuck in a bank during the snowfall and his windpipe was covered. He suffered poisoning from the emissions that were fed back into his car. Luckily, a stranger passing by saw his unconscious form and broke his window to yank him out of the car. If we don’t diligently keep our exhaust pipes clear on the side of our house, we are going to suffer a similar fate.

I know what the general response is. “If it’s bad out, don’t drive anywhere.” Unfortunately, not all of us are offered that luxury. If a State of Emergency is declared for CT and I do not make it into work, my vacation time is eaten up and there is the possibility of a written warning. I know several people that work for the power and cable companies and if they do not make it in to work it is an immediate writeup/termination. EVEN when there is 18 inches of snow on the ground.

Pretty and Deadly.

Even after the snow has finished falling, we are talking about 5-6 foot piles of snow that block our vision when we are driving. My brother and I like to call taking left turns a winter guessing game because we have no idea if someone is about to T-bone our cars.

What those of you not plagued by immense snow fall fail to realize, we have NO PLANS on how to get rid of all of this extra snow before the thaw comes. Will all of the snow melt fast enough to allow for the first wave of farming? Are we going to turn into wetlands?

If your foundation cracked from a frost heave, you are going to have to deal with both flooding and structural damage. If your roof collapsed, you are going to be paying through your nose to get your home back in shape.

I’m going to quote a Twitter account I found called @DearFuckface (Awesome name. Totally jealous.)
“To people posting sunny pics for those snowed in: Next earthquake, I’ll post video of my house not shaking.”

We have had enough. We have overspent our weather budgets for plowing our roads (resulting in roads not being cleared until 5-6pm in the evening). We have thrown out our backs with shovels. We have bruised ourselves from the deceptive black ice. We have had our cars towed. We have had to pay $3.59 a gallon to fill our snowblowers. We have WORN OUT our snowblowers.

We need help and I don’t know why our Governer has not asked for disaster relief from the government. Just because it’s white and pretty doesn’t mean that it’s safe. It is only safe if you stay in your house.

But then you might see twin girls asking you to play with them and might chase after your family with a hatchet. Just saying.

Oh. And one more thing.

The Kindness of Others

I am absolutely amazed at the friendships that start and flourish on the internet. The people that I talk with on a daily basis I feel an incredible closeness to.

I am floored by the generosity of those that I have met online. I have seen someone post “I hate to do this, but can someone lend me $30 so I can get enough gas to get to work this week. I will totally hit you back” and will see a list of people ready and willing to pay it forward. It is amazing the amount of generous people looking to help people in need.

However, there are some times when you are not necessarily sure where your gift is going. What happens if someone says “I need $320 for a new part for my car” but is using it for something else. Did they lie? Was “part for my car” their way of getting money to pay off their bar tab? Are you being conned?

With internet anonymity, you can’t always trust the old adage “what you see is what you get”. The person that you have gotten to know and have invested time and honesty into might be a completely different person playing a role.

So how do you decipher what is true and what is false?

It pains me to admit, but I don’t know. I have racked my brain for quite some time with this predicament. There are people on Twitter begging for a RT from someone famous linking to a “charity”, but how do we know if the link is genuine?

Sadly there are people that will take advantage of the kindness of others. It is inevitable. Once you feel that you have been duped, how can you be sure that anything you want to do in the future is on the up and up?

I know this is a completely depressing post, but I just don’t know. I have no idea what advice I can give to those who have been burned. It’s happened to me in the past and has definitely affected my desire to donate to certain things. Money complicates everything. Loaning a friend some money then watching them spend frivolously without paying you back is one of the worst things to go through.

The only shining light in loaning/donating via the internet is that you can keep record of what you have given and if something doesn’t add up, you have proof of fraud. If you are extending a helping hand to someone, I suggest including someone else in the correspondence so that it is not the case of my word versus their word.

Please be vigilant. Some things to keep mind of.

1. If someone doesn’t publicly thank you for giving them something, they might be getting things from other people. Sometimes even though people are getting things from you, they might be getting money or gifts from others. They don’t publicly acknowledge because they don’t want the well to run dry. If they send you a thank you privately, save that in a special folder marked “Just in Case”.

2. Be wary of shifting stories. If someone is telling you about their life and it seems different from what you remember, make note of it. Jot a quick email to yourself or something (perhaps in a folder marked “Just in Case”). That way if the story changes again you can recognize that you are being fed a partial truth if not a complete fabrication.

3. If someone is still paying for entertainment (cable / internet / smart phone / Netflix / GameFly / World of Warcraft), they obviously have money to pay for those things.

If you have donated to anyone that you have met through me and have not been publicly thanked, please let me know.

In Which Our Heroine Experiences Catharsis

Yesterday, I took on blogging as Amanda Palmer does- Open and honest. I thoroughly enjoy reading her blog. But I’ll write about that on a happier day. 🙂

Have you ever had one of those days? Just a day where it seems like you keep getting bombarded with things meant to throw you off kilter? Yes. Today is one of those days for me.

It’s extremely difficult for me to open myself like this, but I think that in writing this and getting it out, someone might understand or experience the same thing.

Fair warning, it’s angsty, so I don’t blame you for opting out now. It is also really long and jumps around a lot.

Posting this public makes me feel a bit hypocritical, seeing as I wrote a blog post about keeping things happy or uplifting when blogging. My mood ebbs and flows like the tumulus ocean, and some days… I feel a little like the gulf coast – destroyed.

Perhaps it’s the blood flowing out of my body. Gross? Some people might see it that way. It seems like every time I start my period, I tend to lash out, frenzy, or take things too hard. I think it might be my bodies natural reaction to another possible life lost. And if you’re a dude and getting disgusted with this stuff… Really? Girls bleed. End of story.

In all of my fantasies for the future, I have seen myself as a mother. When I was younger, I was so overweight I developed polycystic ovarian syndrome. The idea of having a child then became more of a drive. I wanted to prove the doctors wrong. I wanted to show them that I could have a child and could be a fantastic mother.

Now, I’m 27 years old and find myself faltering. I feel as if I am stuck in a dead end job and (though I know what I want to do with my life) I don’t know how to pull myself up by the straps and mosey on. With age comes bills. It’s very true that the older you get, the deeper roots grow to keep you where you are.

As a child, I never had to worry about making a car payment, setting aside earnings to pay off a mortgage, or figuring out which credit card was going to be paid. Because of that, as a younger adult I went through an intense life lesson with the perils of credit cards. I think that senior year of highschool, they should have me come in and tell them my story. Kind of a “don’t do what I fucking did” public service.

The thing is, with the cold coming and going to visit many different places this year… I’ve realized that this is not where I’m meant to be. I can’t just pack up and leave though. I have a lot of things tying me down. Unfortunately, none of them are a loving, committed relationship with the prospect of kids.

I used to think that my main issue with work is that I was underappreciated. Now that I’m getting all of this appreciation, my main issue is that I’m being underpaid. Of course, everyone feels that way. It irks me to no end that things require money. I’m sure that I could survive with a few dollars a week, but when I find that I’m depressed I always think shopping will take me out of the funk.

I have made leaps and bounds from the gluttonous person I was, with food and shopping. When I do spend a few dollars I still get the nagging feeling that I’m doing it for some stupid reason. I think that’s why I get so overwhelmed around the holidays. I worry endlessly about what to get someone that I just end up buying something for myself then spend the remainder of the day freaking out about not having a gift for someone.

The season of giving? The idea that I need a holiday to dictate that I should be giving with friends is laughable. When I find a gift for someone in March, I don’t wait for a holiday to send it to them. I just give it. “Happy Arbor day! I bought you these mittens on clearance because they are sparkly and have cherries on them. Can’t wait for summer!” When I want to treat someone to a movie because I can afford it and want their company, I do it. Alternately when people do that for me I’m baffled as to why they do it.

I’m not friends with someone for the gifts that they give me. That’s never been me. If I want something I’ll buy it or save up to get it. I’m extremely moved and grateful when someone does give me something, but something inside me chastises me for not getting them something in return. That’s how gifts work, right? Someone gives you something, you give them something. I know that’s not how everyone sees it. I don’t know if it was a part of my upbringing to feel shame when I couldn’t give back to someone.

[[I know that I am all over the place. I’m just trying to get out all of my feelings so I can figure out WHY I’m in such a foul mood.]]

Plus, I was informed of the possibility of working a half day on Christmas Eve. They way that my job works is that they grant us SIX holidays a year. SIX. There’s New Years Day, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. If for some reason one of those holidays lands on a weekend, the holiday is the closest M-F day. This year, I was stoked to find that Christmas was on a Saturday. That meant that I would be able to spend Christmas Eve with my family!

Christmas Eve has been my parent’s day. They host a swing-by shindig with tons of food before they go to church. Then I head to a friend’s house for a nightcap. Christmas Day has been our travel day. I have worked with this company for over five years now. This is the FIRST Christmas Eve that I would be able to fully spend with my family.

When a half day was mentioned to me, I flipped out. I severely flipped out. I was hell-bent on stating that if I was told I had to work a half day I would be giving my two weeks notice. In retrospect, I’m going to be the biggest liar if we have to. I can’t quit my job. I have bills to pay. *grumble* Stupid adult life and all of the responsibilities that come with it.

I’ve been listening to people arguing about shit everywhere I go. It raises my hackles to hear people being intentionally cruel to each other. It’s totally different when you’re the one arguing, because you know the purpose of the argument and you have been there the whole time. When a couple walks by me and the only thing I hear is “and you wonder why your first wife left you”, I want to take a shovel to someone’s dome.

Fights can provoke all of the nasty that has been festering in your brainpan and unleash it without the benefit of a tact filter. I’ve done it. Sometimes I do it because I’ve had enough of being criticized and have reached the level of shame necessary for me to start hitting back. Admittedly, I have a really good memory and it takes a lot for me to pull my verbal punches back so they only sting. I have been called a bitch for doing it. Sadly, it’s not something that I can unlearn. I can try to make it better though.

I don’t want to feel like I’m intentionally hurting someone’s feelings, so I try my hardest not to voice my judgments.  I was actually speaking with someone about this up in Framingham a few weeks ago. I brazenly boasted “I don’t judge” and he cut me off with a laugh and “Yes you do”. It made me stop for a moment and think. Yes, as humans we inherently judge everything that happens around us. After a pause I replied “You’re right. I just don’t talk about the judgments.” I don’t call people out on things publicly.

Sometimes the things that have happened that I have either heard about or witnessed provoke one of my soapbox entries, but I try to make them generic. A specific attack on someone or a certain group is beneath me. I do give people the benefit of the doubt and I reserve my actual judgment because, really, who the fuck am I? Does my opinion really matter to this person in the grand scheme of things?

The only problem with writing up a generic rant is that eventually someone puts an actual face to my universal commentary and if they’re downright cunty (yep… I just wrote that) they tell the person they think is the inspiration for the post. That person in turn reads it, and misconstrues my standpoint. It makes me think that whoever the fuck this “lazy and ignorant informant” is hates me and wants to make me suffer for reasons unknown.

To set the fucking record straight, none of my rants have anything to do with one person. The only time I feel the need to vent about something is when I’m getting it from more than one person.

That brings me to haters. Some people online have tried to slander my name and things I’m involved in. Not fucking cool, but also kind of fucking cool. I guess it means I’m slightly relevant. What sucks is that the end result is that some people feel like they’re poking the bear if they approach me about something they disagree about… One thing I can tell you is that I LOVE playing the Devil’s Advocate, even if I disagree with my side of the argument. The idea that someone can verbalize why they feel differently and we can both leave the conversations smiling/hugging… THAT is what does it for me.

I don’t think that constant debate is necessary, but the ability to use my words to find meaning in someone else’s… That’s a fucking rush. Think “intellectual lady boner”. I’d like to think that I have the aptitude necessary in finding out what makes a person tick (or even what ticks them off).

No, I don’t have a college degree. Shocking? God, I hope so. I am a very intelligent person. I have social skills and a healthy thirst for knowledge. Why do I not have a degree? Long story short, I had a breakdown in late September of 2001 and couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to continue my studies. It is my biggest regret, but at least I still have the time to change that.

When I was accepted into school, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I thought I wanted to do something with music. Sing on Broadway, teach chorus, anything having to do with music. I was quickly ushered away from that prospect.

Once I left school, I took on a full time job and community college. To this day, I’m two credits shy of an associate’s degree. How fucking pathetic, right? Over 9 years, I couldn’t even manage a degree you could get in two. Feel free to beat me up about it, but I don’t think you could make me any more ashamed of myself than I already am.

So hopefully that’s everything that’s bothering me right now. Listlessness and the knowledge that I could be doing so much more with my life.

It’s like my brain is kicking me in the face.

I flat out commend all that finished this post and I also feel the need to apologize. I don’t publicly vent like this. I think the world is full of depressing things, my blog doesn’t need to be one of them. I will try to keep this down to a once a year thing were it to ever happen again.

Ugh. I feel naked right now.