Wednesday, April 4, 2012

If life gives you melons, you may be dislexic.


Hello again.  Honestly I forgot The Daily Tablet existed for the past couple weeks, but I found a note with a bunch of shit to write about and now we're back.  Yay.

I don't know about you, but I feel like classrooms are getting more and more like prisons.  I mean, yea that comparison has been around forever, but now it's getting out of hand.  There's no such thing as carpet in classrooms anymore, the temperature is preprogrammed to either roughly negative 26 degrees or somewhere around the average temperature in the Sahara Desert during a midsummer heat wave.  And there is absolutely no connection to the outside world.  I'm surprised windows are even still put into the buildings.  Cell service is complete shit too, but only in the classroom.  Everywhere else in the building you feel like your actually inside of a cell tower, with perfect reception and as many bars as a college town.  Inside the room though, it's like you're in the 1920's.  You couldn't complete a call to save your life and it's like the teacher is so astounded they might have an aneurism when they realize one of the students has a cell phone.  End Rant.

I recently was on a plane flying from California to Atlanta, and as usual, the flight was about as much fun as French kissing a food processor.  There were two very unhappy babies, a little bitch dog that wouldn't shut up, and a British guy.  The Brit was by far the worst.  It's not that I hate British people, it’s just that I hate British people.  (Side note:  This was the first and only British man I've ever come in contact with.)  This particular foreigner was the worst kind of person.  Annoying, pretentious, incessantly talkative, and smelly.  He starts off with the normal greeting, which is still a feat on an airplane, where most people equate conversation to Chinese water torture.  I answer kindly because I'm a good person, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  We go through sports, books and movies before we even took off.  Of course when I say "we" I mean him.  The ONLY words that came out of my mouth were "Yea," "Oh," and "Uh-huh."  I even put in headphones at one point and he didn't get the hint, just started talking about music.  And so you get the whole picture, imagine a chubby white blonde guy with slightly worse teeth than this man.  Eventually he just started asking me random questions in an attempt at finding a new topic and he gets to exercise.  So now the fat, disproportionate, smelly man next to me is telling me how he usually runs three to four miles every other day.  Then he starts talking about the gym, and as I'm starting to realize this guy just might be lying, he goes back to talking about running, only this time he's saying he runs eight to nine miles every couple of days.  You, sir, are full of all kinds of shit.  I finally get the point across that I am moving on, preferably something more enjoyable than talking to him, like slamming my head against the window.  Now he's talking to the middle-aged black woman from Atlanta on his other side.  They start off with casual conversation again, and eventually get into his opinion on the "beautiful and erotic" plays that he's seen on Broadway etc.  HOLY LORD, PLEASE STOP.  And somewhere in between these "simply marvelous exhibitions" (yes, he actually said that) and his life advice, he asks the woman "What University did you attend?"  Her response: "I didn't."   BOOM.  ROASTED.  Welcome to Atlanta bitch.  Now shut the hell up, get some braces, and lay off the crumpets you pretentious asshole.

As a bonus, the lady behind me was one of those incredibly over paranoid people that feel the need to enforce every rule she hears.  Now call me a terrorist, but I don't think listening to music as we take off is going to result in the spontaneous combustion of the plane, but then again I'm no expert on the matter.  This lady, however, apparently was.  I've gotten very good at managing to hide my headphones by weaving them from my pocket through my shirt/jacket, hat, etc.  Is it worth all this for an extra 15 minutes of tunage?  Absolutely.  Especially if you have Yaptrap the British Loudmouth sitting next to you.  Somehow the woman behind me notices that I have my headphones still in, and proceeds to forcefully remind me that all electronic devices are supposed to be stowed at this point in time.  When I wave her off, she punches me in the face and yells "WHAT?  DO YOU WANT THIS PLANE TO CRASH?!?!"  Okay, she may not have yelled, and the punch may have just been a tap, but it was a very aggressive tap.  I should have just played along and put away my headphones, but I elected to politely inform her that if we were going down, I wanted to do it while listening to music.  Then she hit the flight attendant call button and I very quickly stowed my electronics and faked like I was asleep.  Real mature actions on both our parts.

While we're talking about planes, have any of you seen the bridges that planes take to cross over roads?  Those are not okay.  I don't care if Superman himself was hold one of those bridges up, I still don't trust a little bit of rock to hold a Boeing 747 twenty feet over my very fragile and valuable skull.

As I take a second to shamelessly plug myself, over the past few months I have become helplessly addicted to Twitter.  I know it's gotten bad, because I rarely use Facebook anymore.  (At least compared to the past.) Anyway, I started to think about it, and I’m convinced Twitter was created by the government as a back alley branch of the Patriot Act.  Think about it, for people addicted to Twitter, your first instinct when you do anything interesting is to tweet about it.  Like if, hypothetically of course, I was murdering someone, I don't know.... let's say Snooki*, I'm pretty sure out of habit I'd take her down and immediately take a picture and tweet about it.

*Somebody really needs to kill her.  Seriously.

In case you haven't noticed, I have a burning hatred for anybody associated with the Jersey Shore.  Snooki and The Situation in particular, but mostly because I don't know the names of any of the other ones.  I was told it was entertaining and I gave it a shot, but after about 14 minutes I discovered I'd rather be mauled by a bear than listen to any of those sorry excuses for human beings.  The Situation?  Really?  That's your nickname of choice?  I'm not calling him an idiot, but if brains were dynamite he couldn't ruffle his hair.  And as far as I'm concerned, Snooki could make a freight train take a dirt road.  Honestly that show is just another piece of evidence supporting my stance that New Jersey should just be blown up.

Fact of the Day:  There are 1 million ants for every 1 human on earth.

Shout out to Sarah LaSalle.