we can all agree that the real world ruined everything. but tv execs didn't stop there. they followed with other trainwrecks like the bachelor, the bachelorette, american karaoke (and other variations), and a whole host of other "reality" shows. the process, obviously, was the tv land equivalent to throwing shit at a wall to see what would stick. sadly, most of it did.
as cheap, smutty, or ridiculous and as many of the american reality series may be (pointing directly at "National Bingo Night"...i still can't get over this one), the dutch have scored the coup d'gras in the battle for the least tasteful show. ever.
they call it the "big donor show." the creators must've used all their creative juices in comprising the premise, leaving nothing to come up with a catchy title. as in the states, there is a great debate over the merits (or lackthereof) of the show, with the producers claiming social benefit and critics--government included--claiming exploitation and smut.
the intent of the show, as you may already be aware, is to raise awareness of the shortage of donor organs in the nearly underwater, purple hazed country (perhaps they wouldn't need so many donor organs if they laid off the hash just a bit?). needless to say, the best way to draw attention to an issue like this is to create a reality show on which contestants vie for a much needed, life-saving organ...which is awarded by the family of the donor.
i'm not going to get off on some pro-american rant here, but when we have a national health crisis, such as diabetes, breast cancer, heart disease, etc., we organize marches, fundraisers, or just wait for jerry lewis to come on tv and tell us to give money. but when the dutch are running fatally low on organs they desperately need, they...create a fucking reality show? the only logical explanation is that they must've been high.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
A letter to my dogs...
who can't read this 'cause they're stupid. and they're dogs.
dear dogs,
i love you guys. i really do. you're my furry little companions who are always there waiting for me when i get home from work. you're always excited to see me even if i've been gone for all of five minutes. it makes me feel good. really, it does. it's cute the way you always want my attention and your unconditional love is very much appreciated. however, since we live in a relatively confined space, i must now do what i've been remiss in doing for years....setting ground rules. so, below is a list of new rules (real time style) that, if followed, will make all our lives much more enjoyable.
new rule: when i say "bedtime," i mean for me. not you. you are a dog, which means you cannot buy or own anything. including my bed. you should learn that when i kick you off the bed 3-6 times per night, that i don't want you there. please take this under advisement.
new rule: no whining. whining is a form of communication reserved for infant humans and 28 year old males that write blogs. since you have no manner in which to convey what you really want once you've gotten my attention, you must cease and desist from whining. forever.
new rule: stay the fuck out of the bathroom garbage. i know you're a fucking dog, so it's obviously beyond your realm of comprehension, but garbage cans are for refuse--things i've used that i no longer need. please stop removing tissues, floss, and toilet paper rolls from the bathroom and strewing them about my, er, our apartment.
new rule: please don't bark at EVERYTHING. seriously. it's okay for you to bark from time to time. you're dogs, it's what you do. barking at a passing cat or dog? fine. a human? not preferable, but tolerable nonetheless. but a plastic bag being blown across the road by the wind? are you kidding? why waste your breath barking at that? stupid little furry animal.
new rule: remember, you're on a leash. since we're talking about things outside, let's review proper etiquette for walks. you have a leash around your neck, which is connected to a handle held by my hands. if you're familiar with the anatomy song (the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone, etc.) you'll recall that my hands are connected to my arms, which are held in place to my body by virtue of my shoulders. shoulders are vulnerable. so, when you take off running like you're fucking barbaro, shoulders tend to get hurt. what's worse is that you've been on a leash for walks for over 2 years....and you STILL can't remember this. please don't do that anymore.
new rule: grass is not a foodgroup. once you've stopped eating my garbage, we can move onto other things that shouldn't remain staples of your diet. for instance, grass and the things and substances that may be contained therein. one of you sniffs the grass incessantly, as if it'll give you a high like a magic marker. the other chomps at the grass with each step, emulating a grazing cattle, i suppose. have you not figured out yet that this is one of the primary causes of you having painful, nasty shits? do us all a favor and stick to the food i feed you. believe it or not, "dad" knows best.
new rule: socks belong on feet, not in your mouth. i'm not even sure how you manage to get ahold of my socks. they're either in a drawer or in a hamper with a lid. yet, somehow, i come home to find at least one of them in the living room, usually between your feet as you look up at me as if to say, "oh, you mean this sock?" actually, i mean all of them. don't eat my socks, god damnit.
and finally...
new rule: you are essentially brother and sister and incest is not permitted in colorado, even of the canine variety (okay, i made that part up. but still, gross). one of you i got from the pound. i rescued you, had you fixed, made sure you were a healthy, pretty puppy. i guess i did too well 'cause the other one of you, whom dog #1 found in a field, cannot hold back your primal needs when she's around. frankly, it's appalling. or maybe unnerving considering, well, you don't have any manhood left because you were fixed too. look, i know all about sexual frustration and i know that you guys are the reason we have the term "doggy style." but please, do your human a favor and keep it in your pants. er, keep it in your fur. enjoy the fact you have company when i'm not around; you have someone to occupy you and to help get you into trouble. but when friends (or brothers and sisters) get sexually involved, nothing good can come out of it. just ask angelina jolie's brother.
dogs, following these simple rules will give us all better lives. i'll be much less tense around you, much less likely to blow up at you, and generally even nicer to you than i am right now. i think we can all agree on 2 things moving forward to improve our living arrangement: 1) you'll leave my stuff alone, as i'll leave yours and 2) let's leave the fucking to the humans. mmmkay?
dear dogs,
i love you guys. i really do. you're my furry little companions who are always there waiting for me when i get home from work. you're always excited to see me even if i've been gone for all of five minutes. it makes me feel good. really, it does. it's cute the way you always want my attention and your unconditional love is very much appreciated. however, since we live in a relatively confined space, i must now do what i've been remiss in doing for years....setting ground rules. so, below is a list of new rules (real time style) that, if followed, will make all our lives much more enjoyable.
new rule: when i say "bedtime," i mean for me. not you. you are a dog, which means you cannot buy or own anything. including my bed. you should learn that when i kick you off the bed 3-6 times per night, that i don't want you there. please take this under advisement.
new rule: no whining. whining is a form of communication reserved for infant humans and 28 year old males that write blogs. since you have no manner in which to convey what you really want once you've gotten my attention, you must cease and desist from whining. forever.
new rule: stay the fuck out of the bathroom garbage. i know you're a fucking dog, so it's obviously beyond your realm of comprehension, but garbage cans are for refuse--things i've used that i no longer need. please stop removing tissues, floss, and toilet paper rolls from the bathroom and strewing them about my, er, our apartment.
new rule: please don't bark at EVERYTHING. seriously. it's okay for you to bark from time to time. you're dogs, it's what you do. barking at a passing cat or dog? fine. a human? not preferable, but tolerable nonetheless. but a plastic bag being blown across the road by the wind? are you kidding? why waste your breath barking at that? stupid little furry animal.
new rule: remember, you're on a leash. since we're talking about things outside, let's review proper etiquette for walks. you have a leash around your neck, which is connected to a handle held by my hands. if you're familiar with the anatomy song (the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone, etc.) you'll recall that my hands are connected to my arms, which are held in place to my body by virtue of my shoulders. shoulders are vulnerable. so, when you take off running like you're fucking barbaro, shoulders tend to get hurt. what's worse is that you've been on a leash for walks for over 2 years....and you STILL can't remember this. please don't do that anymore.
new rule: grass is not a foodgroup. once you've stopped eating my garbage, we can move onto other things that shouldn't remain staples of your diet. for instance, grass and the things and substances that may be contained therein. one of you sniffs the grass incessantly, as if it'll give you a high like a magic marker. the other chomps at the grass with each step, emulating a grazing cattle, i suppose. have you not figured out yet that this is one of the primary causes of you having painful, nasty shits? do us all a favor and stick to the food i feed you. believe it or not, "dad" knows best.
new rule: socks belong on feet, not in your mouth. i'm not even sure how you manage to get ahold of my socks. they're either in a drawer or in a hamper with a lid. yet, somehow, i come home to find at least one of them in the living room, usually between your feet as you look up at me as if to say, "oh, you mean this sock?" actually, i mean all of them. don't eat my socks, god damnit.
and finally...
new rule: you are essentially brother and sister and incest is not permitted in colorado, even of the canine variety (okay, i made that part up. but still, gross). one of you i got from the pound. i rescued you, had you fixed, made sure you were a healthy, pretty puppy. i guess i did too well 'cause the other one of you, whom dog #1 found in a field, cannot hold back your primal needs when she's around. frankly, it's appalling. or maybe unnerving considering, well, you don't have any manhood left because you were fixed too. look, i know all about sexual frustration and i know that you guys are the reason we have the term "doggy style." but please, do your human a favor and keep it in your pants. er, keep it in your fur. enjoy the fact you have company when i'm not around; you have someone to occupy you and to help get you into trouble. but when friends (or brothers and sisters) get sexually involved, nothing good can come out of it. just ask angelina jolie's brother.
dogs, following these simple rules will give us all better lives. i'll be much less tense around you, much less likely to blow up at you, and generally even nicer to you than i am right now. i think we can all agree on 2 things moving forward to improve our living arrangement: 1) you'll leave my stuff alone, as i'll leave yours and 2) let's leave the fucking to the humans. mmmkay?
Monday, May 21, 2007
Might as Well be Walking on the Sun
how i came to realize that i'm an idiot:
saturday morning, 8:10am
j: nice shot dude! you're nuttin' that club today.
me: yeah, not bad. fuck, it's hot already? it's not even 9am yet.
j2: it's gonna get hotter. good thing we have carts and good thing i'm mexican....i'm used to this shit.
j: you should try going to vietnam in the summer. talk about fucking hot.
me: why the hell would i go there in the summer? that's just gluttony. and you both suck for not being white. buy me a drink.
(after 5 holes...)
me: look at my fucking hat. it's drenched already and it's hotter than a slave ship out here!
j: must suck to be white sometimes.
me: yeah, good thing i brought.....oh FUCK!
j2: you forgot your sunscreen didn't you?
me: yeah.
j2: how long have you lived out here?
me: almost 3 years.
j2: almost 3 years and you still manage to forget sunscreen? idiot. you're gonna fry.
me: probably.
j: that sucks for you, dude. lemme see. (sees my red neck) holy shit, man, you're gonna be in pain for a while.
me: that bad?
j: no, i always say "holy shit" when something isn't that bad. i'd recommend not showering the rest of the weekend. you're like fire-engine red and a shower is gonna hurt like a mofo!
me: sweet. this happens every summer out here. it's like my memory is reset over the winter and i always manage to get torched at the beginning of the summer.
j +j2: stupid white boy idiot mother fucker. (smack me simultaneously on the back of the neck.
me: (sigh).
saturday morning, 8:10am
j: nice shot dude! you're nuttin' that club today.
me: yeah, not bad. fuck, it's hot already? it's not even 9am yet.
j2: it's gonna get hotter. good thing we have carts and good thing i'm mexican....i'm used to this shit.
j: you should try going to vietnam in the summer. talk about fucking hot.
me: why the hell would i go there in the summer? that's just gluttony. and you both suck for not being white. buy me a drink.
(after 5 holes...)
me: look at my fucking hat. it's drenched already and it's hotter than a slave ship out here!
j: must suck to be white sometimes.
me: yeah, good thing i brought.....oh FUCK!
j2: you forgot your sunscreen didn't you?
me: yeah.
j2: how long have you lived out here?
me: almost 3 years.
j2: almost 3 years and you still manage to forget sunscreen? idiot. you're gonna fry.
me: probably.
j: that sucks for you, dude. lemme see. (sees my red neck) holy shit, man, you're gonna be in pain for a while.
me: that bad?
j: no, i always say "holy shit" when something isn't that bad. i'd recommend not showering the rest of the weekend. you're like fire-engine red and a shower is gonna hurt like a mofo!
me: sweet. this happens every summer out here. it's like my memory is reset over the winter and i always manage to get torched at the beginning of the summer.
j +j2: stupid white boy idiot mother fucker. (smack me simultaneously on the back of the neck.
me: (sigh).
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Side-Walk
n. path for pedestrians on the side of a street.
that's right, the sidewalk is meant for walking. go figure. so, why then must you use the sidewalk as your personal bike lane? you're an adult. you should be responsible. you should know the rules of the road by now. and should have been wearing a helmet. asshat.
you ride on the sidewalk with your shitty ass bike wearing headphones--a no-no in heavy traffic areas--and are riding in the wrong. fucking. direction. what's more, you have the gall to dismount said bike, remove said headphones from your pudgy, ugly ass head and incite an argument because--GASP--dogs want to chase after a moving vehicle( yeah, a bike is a vehicle, you silly trollop) that shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place!
i'm a cyclist. you're a heffer who somehow managed to find a bike that would support her immense weight. i follow the rules of the road. you don't even ride on it. get a brain, get a clue, or get of your god damned bike.
whore.
PS. in most cities, riding a bike on the sidewalk, provided you're not a child, is illegal and punishable by fines.
that's right, the sidewalk is meant for walking. go figure. so, why then must you use the sidewalk as your personal bike lane? you're an adult. you should be responsible. you should know the rules of the road by now. and should have been wearing a helmet. asshat.
you ride on the sidewalk with your shitty ass bike wearing headphones--a no-no in heavy traffic areas--and are riding in the wrong. fucking. direction. what's more, you have the gall to dismount said bike, remove said headphones from your pudgy, ugly ass head and incite an argument because--GASP--dogs want to chase after a moving vehicle( yeah, a bike is a vehicle, you silly trollop) that shouldn't have been on the sidewalk in the first place!
i'm a cyclist. you're a heffer who somehow managed to find a bike that would support her immense weight. i follow the rules of the road. you don't even ride on it. get a brain, get a clue, or get of your god damned bike.
whore.
PS. in most cities, riding a bike on the sidewalk, provided you're not a child, is illegal and punishable by fines.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Tall Glass of Milf
i live next to the rich area of denver. the boulevard is really what separates the haves from the have-nots or almost beens. but, since we're in such close proximity, we do share several things...like target.
the target by my place is reknowned for good looking women. college aged, middle aged, almost old aged. you name it, we've got em. and they're hot. i went there today to pick up a few items, and while standing in line my gaze was met by two super milfs. i noticed many more as i was walking through the store, so many so that i nearly forgot to recognize all the cutie little college girls running around too.
this brought up an interesting thought in my mind: why, all of a sudden (within the past year), have i found myself much more attracted to hot mommies than sultry college coeds or young professionals? sure, i still turn my head at the sight of smokin' hot blonde that just came from the gym. but my eyes have gravitated, inexplicably, toward the mommies of the world. i'm not old by any stretch, nor am i "middle aged", AND i hate kids. those 3 qualifications alone should mandate that i gawk needlessly only at the girls my age or younger (not YOUNGER (gross), but younger as in a couple of years or so).
i chalk it up to the fantasy of the whole thing. ya know, the mrs. robinson syndrome, if you will. obviously i choose to date girls closer to my age, but there's just something more mystifying (sometimes) to me about a hot mom than there is about a fit 20-something. i hope it's not part of the, um, maturation process. nor do i hope it signifies that it's time to look to the older crowd for a relationship. that'd suck.
i guess the only real explanation is the simplest. the deli man spiked my food again with a magic potion to direct my attention to milfs so as to eliminate me from his competition pool. that must be it. curse you, deli man.
the target by my place is reknowned for good looking women. college aged, middle aged, almost old aged. you name it, we've got em. and they're hot. i went there today to pick up a few items, and while standing in line my gaze was met by two super milfs. i noticed many more as i was walking through the store, so many so that i nearly forgot to recognize all the cutie little college girls running around too.
this brought up an interesting thought in my mind: why, all of a sudden (within the past year), have i found myself much more attracted to hot mommies than sultry college coeds or young professionals? sure, i still turn my head at the sight of smokin' hot blonde that just came from the gym. but my eyes have gravitated, inexplicably, toward the mommies of the world. i'm not old by any stretch, nor am i "middle aged", AND i hate kids. those 3 qualifications alone should mandate that i gawk needlessly only at the girls my age or younger (not YOUNGER (gross), but younger as in a couple of years or so).
i chalk it up to the fantasy of the whole thing. ya know, the mrs. robinson syndrome, if you will. obviously i choose to date girls closer to my age, but there's just something more mystifying (sometimes) to me about a hot mom than there is about a fit 20-something. i hope it's not part of the, um, maturation process. nor do i hope it signifies that it's time to look to the older crowd for a relationship. that'd suck.
i guess the only real explanation is the simplest. the deli man spiked my food again with a magic potion to direct my attention to milfs so as to eliminate me from his competition pool. that must be it. curse you, deli man.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Requiem for a Dream
question: what is the chemical in food that causes insanely vivid, impossible, and often freakish dreams?
answer: i have no clue, but whatever it is, there's an abundance of it in whatever i've been eating. in fact, i'd venture a guess that i'm taking in about 3 times the daily recommended allowance of "it."
last night i dreamt (for the second time) that i'd returned to my college town and couldn't get out. almost "hotel california-ish" in it's you can never leave theme. i was so desperate to get out of there (in real life) that a prolonged return would be my equivalent to purgatory. ugh. thankfully i woke up, but i'm sure when i visit dreamland again, i'll still be stuck in ypsisucky.
of course, being stuck in a ghetto podunk town (yes, i'm aware of the oxymoronic qualities of this assessment. you really have to go there to see for yourself) pales in comparison to being convicted of murder. i'm fuzzy on the details of that dream, but i know that i was sentenced to life in prison...at OZ (see, i told you it's fucked up).
naturally, the murder conviction dream was only slightly less palatable than the animal abuser/cruelty one. that one actually made me physically ill. in fact, i woke up mid-dream because i was so nauseated by the imagery.
and what dream sequence would be complete, speaking of imagery, without a jaunt through a grand canyon-like landscape while flying on a pink dinosaur with wings? never ending story anyone? cripes.
so, to recap, in the past few weeks i've been stranded in a town i hate, convicted of murder, abused puppies, kittens and horses, and flown on pink dinosaurs with wings through a fanciful landscape. there MUST be something in my food. makes me want to stop eating. or sleeping. or both. i bet it's that damned deli kid.
answer: i have no clue, but whatever it is, there's an abundance of it in whatever i've been eating. in fact, i'd venture a guess that i'm taking in about 3 times the daily recommended allowance of "it."
last night i dreamt (for the second time) that i'd returned to my college town and couldn't get out. almost "hotel california-ish" in it's you can never leave theme. i was so desperate to get out of there (in real life) that a prolonged return would be my equivalent to purgatory. ugh. thankfully i woke up, but i'm sure when i visit dreamland again, i'll still be stuck in ypsisucky.
of course, being stuck in a ghetto podunk town (yes, i'm aware of the oxymoronic qualities of this assessment. you really have to go there to see for yourself) pales in comparison to being convicted of murder. i'm fuzzy on the details of that dream, but i know that i was sentenced to life in prison...at OZ (see, i told you it's fucked up).
naturally, the murder conviction dream was only slightly less palatable than the animal abuser/cruelty one. that one actually made me physically ill. in fact, i woke up mid-dream because i was so nauseated by the imagery.
and what dream sequence would be complete, speaking of imagery, without a jaunt through a grand canyon-like landscape while flying on a pink dinosaur with wings? never ending story anyone? cripes.
so, to recap, in the past few weeks i've been stranded in a town i hate, convicted of murder, abused puppies, kittens and horses, and flown on pink dinosaurs with wings through a fanciful landscape. there MUST be something in my food. makes me want to stop eating. or sleeping. or both. i bet it's that damned deli kid.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
European Vacation
i'm not much of a PBS guy, but i must rave about "rick steve's europe" series on the free channel. yeah, he's geeky, pretty bland, and surprisingly married, but his shows are incredibly informative and interesting. they're chock full of interesting historical tidbits about the location he's in, which is often off the beaten path.
obviously, his show is 180 degrees from E!'s "wild on" series, but that's the charm of the show. it's simple, cheaply made, with no fancy, well, anything. it's great late night weekend viewing (check your local listings). i now have a jones to hit tuscany, florence, venice, certain places in switzerland and a few locales in germany. all because of mr. boring steve's. thanks rick!
obviously, his show is 180 degrees from E!'s "wild on" series, but that's the charm of the show. it's simple, cheaply made, with no fancy, well, anything. it's great late night weekend viewing (check your local listings). i now have a jones to hit tuscany, florence, venice, certain places in switzerland and a few locales in germany. all because of mr. boring steve's. thanks rick!
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Movie review
Disturbia....in a hundred words or lesscomedic beginning. charming, witty. shia lebouf is an up and coming star with tremendous character flexibility. carrie ann moss, hot mommy. dad dies. sad and destructive. little neighbor kids annoying as hell. we all have them. new neighbor girl scorching hot. new neighbor guy creepy as hell. asian friend stereotypical, but uber funny. screams like a girl.
slasher/screamer movie not expected. plot reminiscent of “rear window.” very hitchcock-ish. not a word. doesn’t count. high intensity, seemingly never-ending drama. wrought with paranoia, which turns to truth. occam’s razor at its core.
perfect mix of comedy, horror, suspense, and thrills. Score: A-
word count: 100, not including "hitchcock-ish."Friday, May 11, 2007
FORE!
i played golf yesterday. "played" is really a loose term here. more accurately, i was on a golf course yesterday, swinging clubs, hitting a ball, and then going off on an adventure to find said ball. actually, it was like a search party come to think of it. "JY, search party of 3. your ball is lost."
god, it was awesome. i forgot, since i haven't played in over a year, just how fun it is to "spoil a good walk (screw you mark twain. you're an idiot. posthumously.). being out with the boys, discussing boy stuff and screaming at an inanimate object to do what you want may be the pinnacle of life. now i have the bug, but not the money. is there such a thing as whoring for golf? i'm not too proud and i'll do it. i swear i will.
oh yeah, hey summer, thanks for FINALLY coming. we've been expecting you. cheers everyone!
god, it was awesome. i forgot, since i haven't played in over a year, just how fun it is to "spoil a good walk (screw you mark twain. you're an idiot. posthumously.). being out with the boys, discussing boy stuff and screaming at an inanimate object to do what you want may be the pinnacle of life. now i have the bug, but not the money. is there such a thing as whoring for golf? i'm not too proud and i'll do it. i swear i will.
oh yeah, hey summer, thanks for FINALLY coming. we've been expecting you. cheers everyone!
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
It's early. So Shut the F*CK UP!
attention all gym members: there is a new policy in place effective immediately. if you are in the gym at or before 5am, you MUST SHUT THE FUCK UP.
i was at the gym at 4:45 this morning completing workout number 1 of the day (i'm currently in 2-a-day training for elephant rock ride, which is a mere 3 weeks away. between being injured, stressing over my stupid ass exam and our shitty spring weather, i needed some drastic measures to get ready). apparently the two college-aged chatty cathy's didn't get the memo. the ONE time i decide i'm not awake enough to listen to music while i'm working out, i get stuck next to these two broads, forced to listen to 30 minutes of incessant cackling, giggling and a shriek/laugh mix that sounded like something that may come from the serengetti.
hey broads, read the sign: if you're at the gym at or before 5am, you must SHUT THE FUCK UP. enjoy your "work-out."
i was at the gym at 4:45 this morning completing workout number 1 of the day (i'm currently in 2-a-day training for elephant rock ride, which is a mere 3 weeks away. between being injured, stressing over my stupid ass exam and our shitty spring weather, i needed some drastic measures to get ready). apparently the two college-aged chatty cathy's didn't get the memo. the ONE time i decide i'm not awake enough to listen to music while i'm working out, i get stuck next to these two broads, forced to listen to 30 minutes of incessant cackling, giggling and a shriek/laugh mix that sounded like something that may come from the serengetti.
hey broads, read the sign: if you're at the gym at or before 5am, you must SHUT THE FUCK UP. enjoy your "work-out."
Friday, May 04, 2007
I coulda been a contenda
update from yesterday...the test is over. it sucked. hard. i didn't do poorly, but i certainly don't believe my score reflects anything about me, other than the fact that i find math about the most useless discipline for a marketing guy. i did just above average, which is not what i am by any stretch. anyway, after some consideration and even a conversation or two with admissions reps at select schools (thanks for your advice, katz people), i'll taking it again come august. this time, however, i'll be fully prepared.
i wasn't ready for the onslaught of confusion. it was pyschological warfare, really. sure, it's one thing to have a grasp of the material, but all GMAT takers know going in that it's a computer adaptive test, meaning you get a harder question following a correct answer and an easier one following an incorrect answer. it is nearly impossible not to crawl inside your own head while taking the test and try to examine what must've happened on the last question. you realize, "shit, this is a hard question. i must've gotten the last one right," and thus you self impose even more pressure.
not to mention the prison-like accomodations. actually, the test center is quite nice. it's clean, updated and such. but it's ANYTHING but comforting or comfortable. in fact, it's just a cube farm, but with cameras overhead and a glass monitoring station behind. any time you need anything, anything at all, you must raise your hand and wait for the administrator to come help. for breaks, you must be escorted to and from your desk, stopping to have your fingerprint scanned upon entrance and exit.
all in all, it's a lot to take in. it's pretty overwhelming. oh yeah, then there's the test itself. so, next time (mid-late august) i'll be better prepared. not only will i study on my own--though not for 5 months this time--but i'll also be enrolling shortly in a prep class offered by DU (that's university of denver for those not living here. yes, i know, it's backwards. don't ask). i'd like to take a kaplan course, but at $1200 a pop, DU's $400 course is a better value. either way, i'll come out with a better score, i'm convinced of it, which will justify spending more $$ in the near term. right?
btw, anybody know where i can find descartes' grave? i'd like to piss on it. or exhume him and beat the hell of him.
i wasn't ready for the onslaught of confusion. it was pyschological warfare, really. sure, it's one thing to have a grasp of the material, but all GMAT takers know going in that it's a computer adaptive test, meaning you get a harder question following a correct answer and an easier one following an incorrect answer. it is nearly impossible not to crawl inside your own head while taking the test and try to examine what must've happened on the last question. you realize, "shit, this is a hard question. i must've gotten the last one right," and thus you self impose even more pressure.
not to mention the prison-like accomodations. actually, the test center is quite nice. it's clean, updated and such. but it's ANYTHING but comforting or comfortable. in fact, it's just a cube farm, but with cameras overhead and a glass monitoring station behind. any time you need anything, anything at all, you must raise your hand and wait for the administrator to come help. for breaks, you must be escorted to and from your desk, stopping to have your fingerprint scanned upon entrance and exit.
all in all, it's a lot to take in. it's pretty overwhelming. oh yeah, then there's the test itself. so, next time (mid-late august) i'll be better prepared. not only will i study on my own--though not for 5 months this time--but i'll also be enrolling shortly in a prep class offered by DU (that's university of denver for those not living here. yes, i know, it's backwards. don't ask). i'd like to take a kaplan course, but at $1200 a pop, DU's $400 course is a better value. either way, i'll come out with a better score, i'm convinced of it, which will justify spending more $$ in the near term. right?
btw, anybody know where i can find descartes' grave? i'd like to piss on it. or exhume him and beat the hell of him.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
GMATically Correct
tomorrow's the big day. seriously, i don't know if i put this much effort into all of my undergrad classes combined. but, tomorrow is GMAT day and i'm ready. i think. actually, i'm not so sure i'm ready. but since i'll be mid-test 12 hours from now, i guess i have to be ready for all intents and purposes.
it's weird that i'm nervous. i don't tend to get nervous very often or for very many reasons. except maybe if i have a gun pulled on me, or i'm interviewing for a position that's waayyyyy above my capabilities but that i really want. or, when i'm faced with an exam that schools claim isn't the be all, end all to their admissions process (when really we know it's a hugely significant factor). but i'm not normally nervous. especially when i know that if i don't do so hot the first time, i can take it again over the next couple of months. but i'm nervous. and ready. i think. maybe i'll get some sleep tonight. probably not, though. i don't sleep well anyway. it's okay. my brain functions better with little sleep and lots o' caffeine.
yeah, i'm ready. bring it.
**update to come tomorrow. fingers crossed it'll be above average news.
it's weird that i'm nervous. i don't tend to get nervous very often or for very many reasons. except maybe if i have a gun pulled on me, or i'm interviewing for a position that's waayyyyy above my capabilities but that i really want. or, when i'm faced with an exam that schools claim isn't the be all, end all to their admissions process (when really we know it's a hugely significant factor). but i'm not normally nervous. especially when i know that if i don't do so hot the first time, i can take it again over the next couple of months. but i'm nervous. and ready. i think. maybe i'll get some sleep tonight. probably not, though. i don't sleep well anyway. it's okay. my brain functions better with little sleep and lots o' caffeine.
yeah, i'm ready. bring it.
**update to come tomorrow. fingers crossed it'll be above average news.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Remember that dream where you're falling?
yeah, well, mine came true. after 2 full years of riding consistently and often, i had my first crash on saturday. my friends all told me it would happen someday. i just didn't think it'd be my first ride of the season. just for the record, it fucking sucked. a lot. could have been worse, since i wasn't going that fast (approx. 15 mph), but i lost some skin and sprain a wrist. good thing i had a dorky helmet on...since i slammed my head on the pavement. that was fun. falling sucks. not recommended. don't do it.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
It's Late and I'm Pissed
so, i'm at the neighborhood corporate coffee shop plugging away at impossible math questions, ridiculous sentence corrections and horrifically boring reading comprehension questions. GMAT is 7 days away and i'm getting in some final study prep. 3 hours into a practice exam, my script goes completely haywire and crashes my system....losing ALL of the work i'd done. so i don't even know how i was doing, didn't get any type of score, and have to redo it tomorrow. sometimes i really fucking hate technology. t-minus 7 days till i get my life back. bastard admissions people.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Delicamessin'
why do the people at the deli counter insist on wrapping the zip lock part of the bag underneath the price sticker? is it because they know that when you try to open the bag by slowly ripping off the sticker that it'll rip your entire bag? maybe it's a conspiracy. or they're trained to do it to increase revenue. yeah, that's it. they do it so that as soon as you rip open the bag of whatever lunchmeat or cheese you just purchased, you'll have only a few days before you have to run right back because your stuff has spoiled. sneaky deli man. never trust anyone with a meat slicer.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
A Vote for Myspace
while visiting the preferred website of people ages 14-33, i noticed that there were some "cool new people" that have joined the network recently. they looked oddly familiar, if not a bit too old for the demographic, and had some pretty cool monikers like "bill," "mitt," and "barack." i thought that was interesting.
every refresh of the homepage saw another politician trying to fit in make the "cool new people" list. i'm sure some of these guys are pretty cool if you get to know them. problem is, i don't want to. it's amazing the levels these jackasses will go to to pander to the voters. not that this is a new idea or anything, but if bill richardson, mitt romney and my presidential fave, obama, think that by getting on myspace and adding 34,976,658 friends will have an impact on my vote, then they should be drafting up the termination papers for their campaign advisors.
i don't want to be your friend, politicos. i find you as a group to be disgusting, sleazy, and pathetic enough without you infiltrating my virtual social playground (believe it or not, i used to have a real-life social playground. now it's more of just a social jungle gym without the gravel below to cushion any fall).
no, what i want you to do is stop trying to be hip and innovative in your quest for the 1600 pennsylvania address and campaign like a real politician should: go out and raise ungodly amounts of money from the sheep who will believe anything you say, and spend it on attack ads, newspaper ads, special appearances in other venues i'd prefer not to see you in (save an appearance on "real time with bill maher" because i'm confident in his ability to make them uncomfortable and challenge them on certain points. it's funny watching politicians backpedal), and then make tons of promises you can't keep.
in short, i want you to take the traditional route in making me despise you just a little less than the other candidates. invading myspace has made me hate you just a little more, because now there's not a shred of evidence to counter the idea that there's nothing you people won't do to secure a vote.
the funniest part of this to me is how many more democrats are on there than republicans, given that the site is owned by sleazeball supreme, rupert murdoch, and his band of merry propagandists. but that's another story for another time. for now, end rant.
every refresh of the homepage saw another politician trying to fit in make the "cool new people" list. i'm sure some of these guys are pretty cool if you get to know them. problem is, i don't want to. it's amazing the levels these jackasses will go to to pander to the voters. not that this is a new idea or anything, but if bill richardson, mitt romney and my presidential fave, obama, think that by getting on myspace and adding 34,976,658 friends will have an impact on my vote, then they should be drafting up the termination papers for their campaign advisors.
i don't want to be your friend, politicos. i find you as a group to be disgusting, sleazy, and pathetic enough without you infiltrating my virtual social playground (believe it or not, i used to have a real-life social playground. now it's more of just a social jungle gym without the gravel below to cushion any fall).
no, what i want you to do is stop trying to be hip and innovative in your quest for the 1600 pennsylvania address and campaign like a real politician should: go out and raise ungodly amounts of money from the sheep who will believe anything you say, and spend it on attack ads, newspaper ads, special appearances in other venues i'd prefer not to see you in (save an appearance on "real time with bill maher" because i'm confident in his ability to make them uncomfortable and challenge them on certain points. it's funny watching politicians backpedal), and then make tons of promises you can't keep.
in short, i want you to take the traditional route in making me despise you just a little less than the other candidates. invading myspace has made me hate you just a little more, because now there's not a shred of evidence to counter the idea that there's nothing you people won't do to secure a vote.
the funniest part of this to me is how many more democrats are on there than republicans, given that the site is owned by sleazeball supreme, rupert murdoch, and his band of merry propagandists. but that's another story for another time. for now, end rant.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
The Best Job Ever
dear station manager,
this letter is to inform you of my interest in filling your need for a chief meteorologist/weather anchor. though there is no formal posting for the position, i am fairly certain that after this weekend's debacle, there surely will be one come monday, and i simply want to be ahead of the pack.
while i may not possess the classical training or skills of most weathermen, i feel i'm certainly as unqualified for the position as your current staff is, and can bring tremendous value to your station since my salary demands (high 5 figures) are significantly lower than their current pay grade (low 6 figures). for example, had i been the one to completely botch this weekend's forecast, predicting upwards of 18 inches of snow--prompting flight cancellations at the airport--only to be followed by clear skies and 65 degrees, think of how much your station could have saved. you'd be a hero in the eyes of the corporate executives. meanwhile,the ratings would be through the roof since your female viewers would want to be with me, while your male viewers would, naturally, want to be me. what does that add up to? more money for the station via increased ad revenues and thus, more "bang" for your buck.
in conclusion, i feel that i'd be a tremendous asset to the weather team and make the station even more financially successful that it already is. undoubtedly you seek a team player who can savagely butcher a forecast without hesitation or apprehension. simply stated, you're looking for me. please review my lack of qualifications and feel free to contact me at the phone number or email address listed atop my resume.
sincerely,
JY
this letter is to inform you of my interest in filling your need for a chief meteorologist/weather anchor. though there is no formal posting for the position, i am fairly certain that after this weekend's debacle, there surely will be one come monday, and i simply want to be ahead of the pack.
while i may not possess the classical training or skills of most weathermen, i feel i'm certainly as unqualified for the position as your current staff is, and can bring tremendous value to your station since my salary demands (high 5 figures) are significantly lower than their current pay grade (low 6 figures). for example, had i been the one to completely botch this weekend's forecast, predicting upwards of 18 inches of snow--prompting flight cancellations at the airport--only to be followed by clear skies and 65 degrees, think of how much your station could have saved. you'd be a hero in the eyes of the corporate executives. meanwhile,the ratings would be through the roof since your female viewers would want to be with me, while your male viewers would, naturally, want to be me. what does that add up to? more money for the station via increased ad revenues and thus, more "bang" for your buck.
in conclusion, i feel that i'd be a tremendous asset to the weather team and make the station even more financially successful that it already is. undoubtedly you seek a team player who can savagely butcher a forecast without hesitation or apprehension. simply stated, you're looking for me. please review my lack of qualifications and feel free to contact me at the phone number or email address listed atop my resume.
sincerely,
JY
The Cornfield: Don Ho
no, not nappy headed ho. "tiny bubbles" don ho passed away today at 76 years of age. yet another victim of heart disease. rest in peace, bra'.
Upon Further Review
....my performance review will only be about 2 weeks later than the stated date. which is also about 3 months later than originally expected. i will, however, be getting a raise before my review is even complete. only time (next payday) will tell how much i'm getting. suffice it to say it won't be nearly what i'm worth. but, hey, at least she's not the only one that kicks ass at her job.
i'm thinking that since my review is so late, i'll charge the company interest for every business day that it's late beyond the stated date. so, by my records, by the time it actually will occur, i'll be getting at least another 5k added on. that'll be nice...cuz i'm worth it. yeah, that'll work.
i'm thinking that since my review is so late, i'll charge the company interest for every business day that it's late beyond the stated date. so, by my records, by the time it actually will occur, i'll be getting at least another 5k added on. that'll be nice...cuz i'm worth it. yeah, that'll work.
Monday, April 09, 2007
To Every Season...Turn the Channel!
i love ESPN. i love sports. it's common knowledge at this point that i'll watch most every sport, with a few notable exceptions. if i could only have 5 tv channels the rest of my life, the Entertainment and Sports Programming Network would top the list. but lately, the worldwide leader has done some really annoying shit...like mix up the sports seasons.
look, it's april, okay? college basketball just ended, the nba is mercifully winding down, and the national pasttime is heating up (except in cleveland, where they got 10 inches of snow. ha ha.). so why does ESPN insist on scheduling NFL primetime every night? unless i missed something, i'm pretty certain that the last meaningful NFL game was played in february (no, the pro bowl doesn't count. it's a lame excuse for rich guys to get a free trip to hawaii. 'cause they really need it). so why the incessant coverage? sure, the draft is "exciting." but when this ridiculous coverage started, it was also more than a month away.
meanwhile, baseball's opening day got some dap. it got some tv coverage from the family of networks. and, of course, baseball tonight--the world's greatest show--premiered (why BBTN had to wait till opening day to premiere, while NFL primetime gets started 6 months early is beyond me). it used to be that each sport had a nightly recap show that got its own hour. NFL primetime, BBTN, NBA fastbreak and a few others (is NHL tonight still around?). this season, however, they cut the NBA and MLB shows to 40 minutes, and gave NFL primetime the leftover 40. what the hell?
this would make perfect sense if we were talking about the NFL Network. ya know, 'cause they kind of have to. the league's name is on the network for cripe's sake. but ESPN, the "worldwide leader in sports?" c'mon.
the NFL is all well and good. i like it (though i still prefer saturday football to sunday football. something about passion and pride just seems to win out for me over money), but for fuck's sake, if it's the offseason, limit your coverage to, oh here's a novel idea, breaking news! like when mike vick decides he can't wait to get home to smoke his weed and wants to carry some on the plane. or when one of my bengals gets arrested in an attempt to set some sort of world record. but the draft? how many different ways can you say that jamarcus russell has a great arm (not that it matters, the raiders will find a way to fuck him up)?
yeah, it's impressive russell can throw a ball 50 yards from his ass, or that brett far vrah is coming back for a 17th season and is going to break some records. but can't this wait till, oh, september when it actually matters? or better yet, right before it happens so we can enjoy the other "major" sports in the world?
there are no fewer than 4 ESPN channels (plus ABC on weekends). you'd think they could find SOME time during the week to cover the sports that are actually in season. novel idea, indeed.
look, it's april, okay? college basketball just ended, the nba is mercifully winding down, and the national pasttime is heating up (except in cleveland, where they got 10 inches of snow. ha ha.). so why does ESPN insist on scheduling NFL primetime every night? unless i missed something, i'm pretty certain that the last meaningful NFL game was played in february (no, the pro bowl doesn't count. it's a lame excuse for rich guys to get a free trip to hawaii. 'cause they really need it). so why the incessant coverage? sure, the draft is "exciting." but when this ridiculous coverage started, it was also more than a month away.
meanwhile, baseball's opening day got some dap. it got some tv coverage from the family of networks. and, of course, baseball tonight--the world's greatest show--premiered (why BBTN had to wait till opening day to premiere, while NFL primetime gets started 6 months early is beyond me). it used to be that each sport had a nightly recap show that got its own hour. NFL primetime, BBTN, NBA fastbreak and a few others (is NHL tonight still around?). this season, however, they cut the NBA and MLB shows to 40 minutes, and gave NFL primetime the leftover 40. what the hell?
this would make perfect sense if we were talking about the NFL Network. ya know, 'cause they kind of have to. the league's name is on the network for cripe's sake. but ESPN, the "worldwide leader in sports?" c'mon.
the NFL is all well and good. i like it (though i still prefer saturday football to sunday football. something about passion and pride just seems to win out for me over money), but for fuck's sake, if it's the offseason, limit your coverage to, oh here's a novel idea, breaking news! like when mike vick decides he can't wait to get home to smoke his weed and wants to carry some on the plane. or when one of my bengals gets arrested in an attempt to set some sort of world record. but the draft? how many different ways can you say that jamarcus russell has a great arm (not that it matters, the raiders will find a way to fuck him up)?
yeah, it's impressive russell can throw a ball 50 yards from his ass, or that brett far vrah is coming back for a 17th season and is going to break some records. but can't this wait till, oh, september when it actually matters? or better yet, right before it happens so we can enjoy the other "major" sports in the world?
there are no fewer than 4 ESPN channels (plus ABC on weekends). you'd think they could find SOME time during the week to cover the sports that are actually in season. novel idea, indeed.
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