If I had a million dollars...

With all due respect to the Barenaked Ladies, a million just doesn't cut it anymore, so for blogging purposes, I shall assume that I am in the possesion of a gajillion dollars, or 'X' amount. For those of you keeping track, I have created this term and used it to reference enywhere from .125 to an infinite amount, assume the latter through my proceeding conversation.
To begin, I need to play a game of car-soccer. Many of you have heard about this idea, it, well, involves cars, and a really big soccer ball. I have played, shoot the Mustang spinning around on the skating rink, so I can only imagine the fun of driving cars into each other in vain attempts to shoot the ball into a net could be. I think that I'd need a helmet, and lots of walls around the thing so that the ball didn't bounce out. On this topic, I also think that a game of laser tag in go-carts down the Whitemud would also be fun. Yes, I must do this.
I would hit up a drivethrough, eg) TacoBell or MickyD's and purchase a number of burgers/tacos to the power of three. For those of you confused by numbers, that can range from 1000-9999 of the little grease balls. Then I would drive around town in a convertable giving these to people.
I would rent a one ton moving truck and return it full of spagetti. But I'd do this at night so that they wouldn't realize it was full of the stuff.
I'd pay people to shut up, all of the time. In fact, I'd hire people to follow me around, paying off people who annoy me to go away. I mean, what's a couple hundred compared to my sanity? Or what's left of it?
Next I'd buy at least 100 garden gnomes and place them all on remote controls that are attracted to movement, so that as you come up to my house (especially salespeople) the gnomes would slowly follow you when you weren't watching them. He he, I guess that could ruin a person for life, but at least it keeps me entertained for a while. Oh, and I'd go national with my Spanky the Wonderelf campaign. Bwa ha ha, I really think that he could take Bush/Kerry, just so long as he has hot and intellegent twin daughters.
I'd go into crappy businesses that don't make it (ie As seen on TV) and buy out everything. Ah yes. I'd do good.
Crap, I have to catch that bus thing... hmmm, I think that I'll make this a two-parter, everyone loves those, a who shot Mr. Burns for those of us not old and dying, or um, who shot JR? I think that's it, some old crappy show that I've never seen did the same thing, but I'm pretty sure they stole the idea from the Simpsons.
The END....?
Do do do... to be continued....

Beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

I actually have an idea for a blog that doesn't suck, but I've decided that I need to save some of my good material. Plus my last blog was pretty spiffy, so I figure that this one can be lacking in the non-crap department but you'll all read in anyway, fascinated by my views on life, the universe, and everything.
To begin... good work, team. While not all of you have blogs that are deeply insightful or fulfilling, they do tend to be entertaining, especially Dave's, but more importantly, they have kept me from doing school work, my ultimate goal through blogging. For that ten seconds or less I'm free, don't worry 'bout the rent... ahem, sorry, oh, and FYI, there is no freaking way you are going to be running less than ten seconds in an import street car. I mean some kinda monkey-navigated-laser-guided-rocket-powered-super-car may have what it takes, but if the 833hp hennessay venmon can't make the run in under 10.1, there's no way that Vin Diesel can do it, no matter how many veins he can bulge out using his muscles. But I've found a use for this internet, and it's not half bad, don't get too full of yourselves, though, I mean, you aren't any great literary artist. Now back to my imaginary point.
This topic of today's blog shall be the 'beep'. All though the history of technology, never has one sound, one mechanical concoction of noise had such an impact on society. But why? Our ears can pick up sounds between 20 and 20,000 Hz, on average, unless you're dumb like me and blew out your eardrums half a dozen times in which you'd be working at about half capacity and make the Shell nurse sream at you for a while about never being able to hear your baby's first words. But of all the sounds in the known universe, why have absolutely every alarm, notice, or alert represented aurally by what could possibly be the most annoying sound known?
Imagine yourself waking up in the morning to an orchestra cressendoing into your dreams, slowly lifting you from your unconsious state into reality, or everytime you hit the wrong button on the computer, a gentle hum would originate informing you as to your mistake. No, instead it is the insesent beep that tears you from your dreams or the sudden jolt of the sound, not only letting you know, but everyone else around you that you are in fact an idiot and can't make the computer work.
The sound mocks you at every turn, from cell phones, to pagers, microwaves and cash registers; the beep is everywhere. What could be more menacing than a heart monitor, rhythmically pointing out everytime your AV node decides to pulsate as it slowly ticks of the time you have left to live... Even sitting in a room can be a daunting task, the background noise consisting of the murmur of the crowd slowly overpowered by constant beeping, or hiking through a park only to have your companion's cell phone begin beeping. Augh... the beeping!
Well that was a crappy, crappy blog, but true. Even as I sit here and type this, all I can hear is the clicking of keys, but more noticeably, the beeping from the door alarms, printers, and computers galore. I guess I'm done. I think that was shorter... dumb but shorter. (Personal note: Spanky Christmas) don't worry, it'll make sense in time... So long... farewell... um evitasing? GOODNIGHT!

Taming of the Student

Homework is evil. Now before you go figuring that I've adopted a typical six year old attitude towards school and cootie covered boys, I shall explain my stand. Oh, and I'm reeeaaally trying to keep this short, but I do tend to babble.
So it's like this see... homework was created by the man... the man man, baby, yeah... ahem. Sorry about that. But it's still true nevertheless. Who is this 'man'? The 'man' is your boss, or at least will be. Say, for example, that a group of friends is all hanging out together, perhaps partaking in amusing activities that they have planned for the evening. They call you on the telly and question as to if you will be gifting them with your presence, when you reply, as sad as possible, that no, in fact you have been called away on more pressing matters. These matters include a thrilling action-packed essay on the enlightenment and dialectical analysis of such works of Freud, Neitzsche, Goldman, and other easy to understand authors. Ah yes, now that underlying tone of sarcasm that continually pervades my thoughts and blogs has become apparent.
To begin, these authors are dry, dull, and tend to make up words like 'historiticize' and 'antidisestablishmentarianism'. No one really knows what these words mean, in fact there are more papers and essays discussing another dry and dull author's interpretation of their meaning.
But onwards we go. So as all of your friends are going out, partying, having fun, and most likely developing the stories that will become tales of fable at the next coffee-time gathering. You, of course, are noticeably absent from these ancetdotes. And what do you have to show for it? Five pages of nonsense. Seeing as how nothing is really real according to the great thinkers, you are analyzing nothing about nothing. This stands to provide you with that warm and fuzzy feeling, carrying you through the day, high on a sense of well-being and pride. You do realize that if everything blew up tomorrow and stuggling to survive, the only value of that stupid paper would be for warmth. That's it, fuel for a fire.
Now how does this tie into the 'man'? Well, for the low, low price of six odd some thousand dollars a year, you too can attend a university or post-secondary place of education and trade in your hard earned dollars for letters, between eight and twelve of the things. All in all, you pay a little more than five hundred dollars per letter, the kind of cash that wheel-of-fortune could make a killing off of. Now you have become firmly attatched to the belief that the letters hold some kind of magical power for the future, but you're starting to miss the cow that you traded, and the beans aren't looking so good.
But cast aside your doubt, you realize that in exchange for giving up a social life and much moola, you too can prepare for your future. Soon, if not already, you'll log online seconds after your marks are posted, hoping to beat out the 'evil competition' to the point where you will do everything in your power to see that you beat them.
And the 'man'? Well, now you have no social life and are willing to dedicate hours of hard work, both to pay for school as well as all the time dedicated to homework. Who could be a better employee than the coffee-crazed, competitive freak of nature that you have become, or better yet the psycho-offspring you will spawn, devoted to school and work, hoping to achieve the same or greater success of dear old Mom and Dad. Ah yes, the cycle is complete.
What does this mean for you? Nothing really. You're probably already screwed. I know I am. But hey, not like I have anything better to do than sit in front of a computer typing about Medieval thought and philosophy.
Ba doom boom chi...

Well that shut me up

As I sat and with zombie like radiance and attention to the blank screen in front of me I realized that I'm not really angry about anything at the moment. To tell you the truth, I'm scared by the notion that I have nothing to complain about at the moment. I believe that the true traumatizing aspect of this is that I could actually be doing homework instead of nothing. Because of my set devotion to procrastination and because people harrass me if I don't give them an opinion through my blogs, I've decided to type, even if it's going to be about nothing.
There is a fine art to doing nothing, it is a flair and experience when executed properly. While I'm not particularily upset about anything, I can go on and on like I am while astounding you with my mastery over the English language and ability to manipulate my readers. Alright, now on with the point that I'm lacking...
Allow me to paint you a picture... (misty clouds enter the room and swirly colours appear). You wake up tommorow, not unlike any other day, but it just feels different, there's no realy way to explain it, but something has changed since yesterday. You head downstairs to find a massive breakfast prepared just for you. No one made it , but it's there. You turn on the radio as you sit down to eat and your favorite song comes on the radio, and there are no commercials. You are dumbfounded at your luck, but continue to scarf down the food in front of you. You grab the paper sitting on the table. The BWM dealership is having a sale for the next three years, with any trade in you get a new car, and if you have no trade in you just need to ask nicely. You turn the page, pretty sure that this is some kind of joke paper, half expecting someone to start laughing at you, but on the next page you find better news, everything is free so you no longer have to go to work/school, Bush decided to stop waging war and later today he's having a sleepover at the bin Laden residence, they will be watching Lilo and Stitch. World hunger no longer exists and all of the diseases plaguing humanity have been cured.
You stand up and look over your shoulder to check for cameras, as you are now fairly certain you are on the next Joe Shmo Show. Nothing. You step outside, people are driving past you house using common sense and everthing they learned in driver's training, and there is no snow but an incredibly lush green lawn. Since last night everything became perfect.
You decide to go to school to see what happened, or how everyone else is. The bus is on time, and that jerk bus driver who pulled away without you is dead, but his family is okay with it. You hit up the local coffee spot and meet up with friends and all sit there is quiet amazement. It doesn't just stop there, everyone is happy and it is sickening. No one's talking, erveryone is just bumping around with no real purpose in life. Everything is handed to them. People stop caring.
The population begins to skyrocket as things causing the balance in global population have been taken away, while you sit, bored with your new Murcielago, and without friends because you were to busy stuffing yourself to talk with them, plus you never know what to say and it's just ackward.
That's right, the perfect Utopia is miserable. Would it be fun for a while? Sure, but as every poor little rich kid knows, you can't buy happiness.
The kids across the street are just sitting there, holding hands in a circle, surrounded by a sense of self-worth and happiness. No one is excluded, even that fat kid with the pig-nose and freckles. You become shrouded in a cloud of misery, sickened by humanity and eventually snipe off people from a bell tower, bringing fear and hatred back into the world and creating the downfall of society through a viscious spiral of misery. You job is done, but you are also dead and the world has arrived back at square one.
My point? Complain, you can't change the world all at once but little by little, saving your own sanity and the sanity of others, making the world a better place, without, well, the above.
Well that wraps up today's show, Kiddies, so remember to wear your seat belt and look both ways before crossing the street. Tune in next time, same bat time, same bat channel...

Your computer is trying to kill you

Well I've decided that technology is out to get me. Actually, correction, technology is out to get everyone. That's right, as you sit and stare blankly into the computer screen in front of you, you become more and more drawn in, unable to unplug from this new reality and will soon start wearing black leather trenchcoats and sunglasses at night... no wait, I think that was from a movie, um, what was that last Herbie film called? Herbie goes to Montey Carlo? Yeah, I think that was it. I love Herbie, he's so wicked awesome.
Okay, well back to that point thing that I like to avoid. Think of way back when, well, think of what your parents have always been complaining about seeing as how we are the MTV generation and cannot even begin to understand life before TV. Alright, so you have people living like trolls in the hills with no running water, power, or more importantly MSN. That's right, way back when you would actually have to laugh out loud during a conversation to relay 'lol'. It was a lot of work. You had to mail letters, of course some Kevin Costner look-alike would ride across the plains gathering and distributing the mail, giving off a creepy devotion to a job in the times where no one would 'go-postal', and it would take weeks and weeks for anyone to get the message, like I have two weeks to live.
While this may not seem like the greatest way of life, the simplicity and sense of accomplishment at the end of everyday would be unbeatable. I mean lugging water from the river to the house pretty much made up a day. That's it. I mean, we have the Culligan Man now and that's his whole day but that would be everyone's day. No school, no real other work, just live. Huh, considering all of you spazoids are on my case if I don't blog as well as work and do school stuff and try not to blow up the house, I could totally deal will spending my day talking about my bum-knee and how it's gonna rain next Saturaday.
Who is to blame for all of this change? Technology. That's right. Lots of good has arisen from the advancement of technology, like microwaves, music, and videogames, I guess you could probably throw in pacemakers or something like that too, but let's focus on me. These things only exist to keep you occupied and oblivious to how much the same technology is screwing you over at the same time. I wouldn't have to take a stupid computer class at eight in the FREAKING MORNING to only spend about half an hour in the lab. I wouldn't be expected to type up any reports, forcing me to stare at a radiation-o-matic for hours on end. I could go outside and write in a notebook in the sunshine and all of the woodland creatures would come up and we'd all hold hands/paws and sing in glorious unison. No. Instead I'm stuck in some cold, dank and dark basement watching hours of my life tick away as I work on my fabulous flourescent green tan. If I keep 'saving time' because of technology, I'm going to have to have thrity hour days. Instead of having the same amount of work but being more efficient, we are taught to do twice as much work, with no time to sit around and sing with woodland friends.
So yeah, wow, it's long again. Sorry. I really tried to cut back. Reader's Digest Version: your computer wants to suck your lifeforce out of you, making you social inept and physically as weak as Bill Gates, wait... maybe he's behind all of this?... Probably, I'm sure he's still angry about being a geek. Have fun with that. Now I shall depart and play in the majesty of the LRT station. Instead of woodland creatures it's well, I guess there's that farmer that plays violin... maybe I'll go bug him until class... Happy trails... to you... until we meet again...

Early to bed and early to rise makes you really boring

Okay, I have ideas for blogs again, and everything is good with the world. Hey, wanna know something interesting... the word 'blog' is actually red-flagged by this dealie's spell check. That's right. The website devoted to THE BLOG doesn't recognize it as a word. Kinda idiotic. Now without further ado I give you... 'why I wanna be a cartoon':
Every problem is solved in half an hour, well, twenty-two minutes if you want to be precise. I mean, there is the rare continuation, but in general, you can accidently kill the last panda on the planet, run away from angry hill-billies, be reunited with your estranged uncle, all in time to finish your school assignment, and win Little Miss Know it all America! Wow, that would be the greatest story line ever... hmm. They don't have any real problems to begin with. The only downside to all of this is that you never gain any ground with your character development. You never change, learn anything, mostly because these shows need to exist independent in themselves, so no major changes can occur, aside from the drawing getting less crappy as time goes on.
Next, you never age. I mean, this would suck if you started off as an old fogey that basic yells at kids all the time, while hurling cats at them, but if you start of in grade two, that's where you end each and everyday. You can be young forever, and never have any real consequences.
You can wear the exact same thing everyday, and the same hairstyle! Yes, how many hours and moneys do we throw away on the latest fashion, hair-stuffs, or time required to pick out our outfit for the day (provided your parents no longer do this for you). Best of all, it isn't weird that this happens. In fact, it would be kinda creepy if you didn't wear the same thing, mostly since in crappily drawn cartoons, it may be your only distinguishing feature.
Just think of all the fun you can have mocking the obvious stereotypes that exist in the surrounding society. I mean you have the dumb donut eating cop, the corrupt mayor, the immigrated shop-keeper, and dumb jocks. Yes, stereotypes are a great thing. As I look around I wish that life were more like that, it would make everything fairer. For example, you wouldn't have all of these good-looking smart people. Either you're dumb and so much so that you don't realize it, but very attractive, or smart but not exactly the best looking person. Basically it evens it out, so that you aren't hot and smart, the best of both worlds, or dumb and ugly, and most likely attempting to slit your wrists from the continual disappointments of life (... with the flow, not across).
We would also live the stereotype lives with the best friend, family of five, crazy Grandparents, and all the fun that comes with the typical Americanized life. Hence we would all be driving fatty-mobiles, this would be a drawback. Nothing outside of the city limits would matter and we would be totally unaware of any globabl events, or anything aside from the big county fair fast approaching. Okay, so it is kinda dull, but everyone is stupider in cartoons, as such it would be amusing enough.
Another crappy part of all of this is the stereotypical 'bad guy'. I'm not much into wearing all black or petting hairless cats, so this might be difficult. I guess so long as I don't have to be a stereotypical character, but still surrounded by idiots to manipulate for my own bidding... wait, suddenly reality doesn't seem that bad, um, actually never mind about that last part... you heard nothing, deny deny deny, then lie.
The greatest thing about living in a cartoon world is that you can do anything you want without consequence. I can get, say, angry at a bus driver (not that this would ever occur in real life) find out where he lives, leave an orphaned puppy on his front step in a basket (one of those cute dogs like in 'Fraiser' with the tongue hanging out and the bug brown eyes), wait a few months as he and his family take it in and love it, then punt it off a bridge. See and I wouldn't have PETA at my door, picketing and throwing bananas at me while wearing fig leaves, nor would I be picked up by the cops. Nope, in cartoon world it would all end well and probably entertain a few people along the way. Or I could just punt one of his kids... no, I guess that sounds worse... maybe. But I would never do this in the real world. It just wouldn't end well.
Ah, life without consequences, that would be great. But unfortunately I don't live like that, not yet anyway, maybe when I take over the world and all of you are my minions. I do love my minions, and masses, can't forget the masses. Well I'm sure I'll be reamed out for that puppy comment, just to stress it again, I'M NOT INTO KICKING PUPPIES, NOR WOULD I EVER KICK A PUPPY.
I'll get you next time Gadget... next time!...

I wish I was an animated cell cartoon

Ah yes, with a title that intriguing, you are probably thinking that I'm off my gourd, but it's true. Wait, did I just say 'off my gourd'? Wow, that could be the stupidest thing I'll say today, well, at least in the next five minutes, mostly since I'm in the library and have no one else to talk to.
But seriously folks, this carrot walks into a bar and... no, wait, different blog. Clearly (thanks Dave) you can see how stupid most cliches are. Allow me to explain... gather round the campfire as an old fogey tells some tales about days gone by or how there was no downhill invented when they were growing up. First off, what would I be doing sitting or standing on a legume? I mean I may not be Thunder Thighs per se, buy I'm no Ally McBeal, I would squish the stupid thing to begin with. There is no feasible way for me to be standing on said gourd in order for me to be off it. Why would I be on a gourd? And why do I keep saying the word 'gourd'?
Take the 'skin a cat' cliche. How many ways must one skin a cat to be totally satisfied in the first place? According to my zoology class there is only one way to do it, and it has been demonstrated in a step-by-step video. Honestly, though, I mean you remove the fur off the animal, I don't need great detail or multiple methods to do so.
Another favorite of mine is 'killing two birds with one stone'. Do you know how FREAKING impossible this is in the first place? You can't do it! No! I mean, maybe if you had a bucket full of small flightless birds and the were kinda drugged up so they don't pull some kinda 'Finding Nemo' and all beat their brains out against the same side of the bucket, you would still need to be on some kind of cliff side with a boulder to in fact guarantee that you are able to smite two of the little fellows. Maybe if they lined up... NO! This is stupid. Why would you want to kill two birds with the same stone, are you really that lazy that you wouldn't be willing to bend down and pick up a second rock to hurl at some defenseless chickadee... well, maybe not defenseless, ever see "The Birds"? But really, not an easy task. Even hitting one of the tiny flying rats would require the skill that most professional pitchers would lack.
Ah yes, and a shining example of how these sayings become useless over time can be found with 'slower than molasses'. When was the last time that you used molasses? Do you even know what it is? I mean no one uses the stupid stuff anymore. Thanks to the psycho-Atkins diet school of thought, the closest you can find now is some kind of carb-free watered down syrup, useless as a book explaining how to read, and so watery that it soaks right through pancakes, making them mushy and depressing. Oh, I love pancakes, I wish I was eating some right now... But use something relevant, like dial up internet or Bush trying to construct an argument. Molasses? What the CRAP?!?
Oh, and I give you full permission to tell the older and wiser generation to cram it, and now I will tell you why. How many times have you been told that television, movies, songs, music videos, and video games are too violent and project a negative image? I'm not saying that every eight year old should be allowed to play GTA:Vice city, but I do have a point. Try reading the original "Little Mermaid" by Hans Christian Anderson, maybe Humpty Dumpty, or Ring around the Rosie. What do all of these have in common? Aside from being neutered by Disney, they are all sick and violent, filled with death, destruction, sex, violence, cheating, lies, and terminal illness, just like 'Passions' without the midgets. How are children supposed to be all sweet and innocent when there are being sung to sleep about babies falling out of trees? Is this a good mental image? CRAP NO! I mean, you may as well add a catchy tune to the latest Marilyn Manson song and hum that to you child. And what's up with clowns? When did a man in his late fifties, dressing up and playing with children ever seem like a good idea? As far as I'm concerned, if we would have all grown up without any violent ideas being planted in our heads, things might have stayed that way. But even with the sheltered upbringing, escaping from these influences is impossible.
Ah yes, the part of the show where I tell you what to do. Come up with some soon to be popular cliche that doesn't involve violence, something ridiculous, or outdated. Post it as a comment and try to use them in everyday life.
Now go... it's too late for me... SAVE YOURSELVES!
Oh, yeah, that animated cell thing, um, well... I'll remember that for my next blog, oooh, there was something else... ah, it'll come to me... LIKE A FOX. Okay, really bye this time.

Everyday in every way I'm getting better and better...

... or at least that what the tapes are telling you, truthfully, though, you aren't. Somewhere around the ripe old age of birth, your body stops making telomerase. This translates to magical little body-gnomes that keep your body from slowly destroying yourself. Yup, that's right. Every twenty-four hours as your cells complete their reproduction cycles, the instructions that they follow to make you the fantastic person you are get a little bit shorter. Really it's only like removing the word "Zulu time" but removing enough of these words over years and you start to lose important stuff. Does this mean that one day your nose will just fall off, no longer remembering how it made itself? No, well, maybe, but I don't think so and I know everything. So no. But all of those fun diseases arise when your instruction manual has pages falling out, or you are just left with the French side, and lets face it, no one really knows how to read French.
Is this depressing? Yes, most definetly. Better yet to haunt you are the thoughts that you actually begin to die following age twentyish. You are no longer growing, but dying. Although you can take some comfort in the fact that your nose and ears will continue to grow through your entire lifetime. If you live to be a hundred, really you'll just be a golf ball with three large protruding nubies with orifices in each. Mmmm.
Now you are probably asking youself, 'well Carly, seeing as how I'm incapable of independent thought and think most highly of you... where are you going with this and why are you being so negative?' Gather 'round my children and ye shall hear my words of wisdom...
Enjoy everyday. That's it. I mean, death is inevitable and I'm not saying that you should totally blow off all work and school just so that you can spend that extra little bit of time visiting the monkey house, but don't be afraid to do those things in the everyday to make life a little bit better. Make up a list of things that you want to do. For example, one such list may be as follows:
1. celebrity to kill list completed
2. car soccer
3. crap-throwing-monkey-shot-gun-wedding
4. take over world
5. bake muffins
I mean it is really as easy as that, just a list of things that you want to finish before you die.
Live everyday like you really don't care what others think about you. If you waste all of your time worrying about what others think of you, it's really a waste of time. If you jump on a random bus and start singing 'on top of pasgetti' (sic) at the top of your lungs, half the people will be impressed by your fantastic rendition and offer you a spot on American Idol, while the other half will at least be mildly entertained. All in all no one will know you or remember anything five minutes after you get off.
Write an exam that isn't yours. You can just draw pictures the whole time and hand it in. Yell at someone in public about something really stupid. It isn't a real fight if you argue with them over the pronounciation of the word 'potato'. Play in the kiddie pool, camp out in a tent in walmart, have a game of hide and seek in Ikea. Start a reality show, become the owner of Fox tv.
With all the death and destruction going on in the world today it's all a matter of time before you get hit by a piano falling out of a third story window. As one of my friends described life "its a big game of baseball, where we are all out in the field and everyone is spinning and blindfolded and you never know when you'll get hit". It doesn't make a lot of sense, but maybe you can get something out of it.
I shall leave you with this thought to ponder today. Your mission, if you chose to accept it, do something that you are embarrassed to do. From Starsky and Hutch "do it - do it". Now I shall stretch my bottom lip over my head and swallow myself into oblivion, gulp.

And now for my next trick...

I wish to throw my support behind some less than respected members of campus, the litterbugs. To begin, even their title has negative connotations. They are not an insect by any means and their work helps secure jobs for many third world refugees and immigrants into this fine country.
Walking through campus today I was able to witness these folk hard at work, tossing gun wrappers on the ground, bottles, even still lit cigarettes, only having these items landscape beautification picked up moments later by one of the busy-bodies around the University. It is a shame that their creative genius and self-expression is so quickly snuffed, but this is what the University hires people to clean up. Also they are good for cleaning off tables, blowing leaves, and general maintenance work. Their job is also important as the typical University student has no time to spend cleaning up after themselves. This cleaning up would only be seen as being beneath them in any matter. I mean, you can't honestly expect me, the aspiring Med Student to have to clean up after myself. When I do finish school, I'm likely to work somewhere I can treat with the same disregard as school, and better yet, hire a maid to take care of my household.
What if every lawyer was forced to bus their own table after lunch? How many a trail would be thrown into jeopardy, to simply secure that the table is ready for use when you leave? What trivial a matter it is when it conflicts with something so much more important.
To further my notion, consider all of the jobs that wouldn't be needed if everyone cleaning up after themselves. Our infrastructure would collapse and thousands of immigrants would be out of jobs and deported immediately. I am not about to spend seventy-five hundred dollars (after books and bus passes) a year just to have the duty of walking the extra five feet to throw something in the garbage can rather than in the street.
Look at any given Campus. What do you see? A well tended, pristine location, free of leaves on the sidewalk or snow in the winter, beautiful green lawns, and most importantly, no crap that I chose to leave behind. Why? Because there is someone else to ensure that this is all done and tended to. These people have nothing else to do besides clean up after you. I mean, if they do have families and personal issues, the thought of such things would never plague their minds during work and they would stay focused on the job. Also be sure not to recognize their presence with a slight 'hello' or 'thanks' as this would only distract them from the job at hand, making them more irresponsible and wasting their time as well as your money. To help productivity, pretend that they aren't even there. Don't look up from your book, don't stop talking on your cell phone, and definetly, under no circumstances should you move yourself of any part of your body in order to help them. Over time they may come to expect this kind of action, and may become lazy, demanding more money for the jobs that they do if we stop thir gracious display of generosity.
Instead of recycling those bottles yourself, please, toss them anywhere. Some homeless person is likely to be around in a few minutes to gather them for the five cents that they are worth. Better yet, leave them at an LRT station and you won't even have to risk an encounter with the homeless, they can stay underground without you ever having to acknowledge their presence.
You are the University student, the one who is worth more than others in your field with years of experience but no formal education. When you graduate, you possibilities are limitless, so why waste time helping the common janitor, or thanking them, this would only disgrace you, talking to someone who cleans the bathrooms, and waste precious time.
Oh, and for those of you who overdosed on your 'Stupid' pills today, I'm being slightly sarcastic. Sorry this one wasn't as funny as some of my other enteries, but it really needed to be said. Houston this is Carly, signing off.... "click"

Me fail English? That's unpossible!

Ah yes, language... this is the divine gift that sets humanity apart from the animal world and keeps up from sitting in the bushes poking berries up our nostrils, (at least this side of the border). Language is tied into absolutely everything, from the clicking of tongues of African tribes, to the Tower of Babel, and rap slang, to Shakespeare it is all a load of crap. In honor of my disenchantment with language at the present moment, I shall have language themed paragraphs, illustrating my point that language itself is so arbitrary that we need a new infallible system.
So, yo, da shiznat's all, um... scratch that one.
So, like, there's all these words, and like they all mean stuff *giggle*but you know. Yeah, so like these words are all like "I mean stuff" yeah, and some, like are just the same stuff but like people change the stuff so that, like you know, they can mean, like you know whatever *giggle*.
Click click, grunt, knock knock grunt. Click knock knock, grunt, spit! Grunt! GRUNT! Click click knock.
Methinks that thy English language, over many a fornight, hast becamest a language with certain gross downfalls as all may interpret it as they whilst. Thy words can turnest against thy master or becometh the lamb of which they mayest use. Now I shall smite you all...
Okay, well that was annoying. My point is that any word can be interpreted in a million different ways, well maybe not a million, but at least twenty-seven. If someone is say, talking about the 'englightnement' philosophers will create a paper simply to argue their definition and define it another way, and then someone will argue with them. This arguing will escalate and eventually spill over into war over trivial manners. I mean, if we all just had one easy unambiguous language, all of this misinterpretation could be avoided, and I wouldn't have to take this English class. But no, instead the language is stupid and people give what ever meaning they want to things, making it absolutely useless.
Allow me to demonstrate, as much as I hate to use math, it works. If we say that 1 + 1 is 2, I know, complicated but try to keep up, or at least fake it (smile and nod), but all of the sudden, Wordsy McWordserton decides that 1 could be 3, so 3 + 3 is 2, and then his arch rival Talky Talkerson decides that 3 is 2 and thus 2 + 2 is 3, but 1 isn't 3 and 2 isn't 1... I think that just made it more complicated.... um, (stupid 'poof' machine is at the cleaners, looks like I'll have to use my good looks to get out of this one...).
But you can see that if math were like English, the entire thing would fall apart due to interpretation, and mathematicians head's exploding from all this paradigm shifting without a clutch.
Oh, and my favorite thing is poetry (soaked with sarcasm so not to be interpreted as truth). I mean someone writes the words "my cow is blue" and instantly it is a great work, describing the communism spirit that is alive and well, breeding under the capitalist regime, no wait... it is actually about a young girl's struggle against society in a world where she is shying away from sympathy while combating terminal illness, or is it... no SHUT UP, THE STUPID COW IS BLUE! It got too close to a can of blue spray paint that was left in the sun and exploded. Blue, that's all! No dying girl, no bloody revolution, just a can of paint and a cow! Gah!
So next time you hop on into English class, just for kicks, come up with the most far-fetched interpretation of something you have read. The Prof can't argue because the author is probably long gone or too old to remember that they wrote the stupid thing, so in all honesty, you could be right.
Now go my children and spread this knowledge throughout the land, or I shall smite you all! Begone!

When did eating endtrails become entertainment?

THOUSANDS DEAD, FIVE INJURED IN BIKINI CARWASH

The above statement is a proof to the stupidity and predictablility of people in general. I mean, really, I can't think of anything that would kill thousands, while leaving a remaining handful of people with minor cuts and scrapes, but holy potatoes batman, that kind of statement will get the rest of your crappy article read. This blog is devoted to the dumbness of titles, the universal attention deficit disorder that is plaguing society, and may even have a hint or two for you, the reader, to follow so that your blogs don't suck as much.First off, people are needy babies who need constant dynamic forms of entertainment. We live in an age where a thirty second commercial can be trying on our limited attention spans, a movie that lasts nearly three hours is only possible with a bathtub sized pop and enough popcorn to feed a third-world nation, and a man who kinda blew as president has a novel on the New York Times top ten best seller list all because he got it on with an intern. Yes, in these days the only way that you can get the attention of the masses is through violence, bikini carwashes, slow motion running along the beach, and backstabbing. Basically the times allow any scum-of-the-earth individual to gain popularity based on exposing and calling into view the lowpoints of society (eg paparazzi). I mean, a bunch of no-lifed geeks running around with cameras, taking pictures of fat actors and actresses not wearing make-up can make a killing, even though, in my opinion, they are lower forms of life then the washups they photograph.

Why must people be so stupid as to their culture and tastes? What happened to the good old days when ranting about how great life is being a pimp didn't make up a music video? Or when tv was scripted and required thought, rather than ape-like amazement at who is sleeping with who or what contestants have to eat this week. When did eating endtrails become entertainment?
Your assignment, a la 'Fight Club', make a difference in culture! Listen to a cd that doesn't feature someone complaining or boasting about their rich lifestyle, watch a documentary, go to a lecture you aren't scheduled for and enjoy it, then go blow up a credit card company... no wait, not yet. Or at least promise that with the knowledge I have given you, you will go out and exploit stupid people attracted to catchy headlines.
Well that about shuts me up for now. Until next time this is Carly saying, "Stay classy, planet Earth."

... and now the 'fairer' sex

Yes, I suppose that I was a tad harsh the other day. You see, while attempting to remain completely neutral in my criticality (um, I don't know if that's a word, but for the remainder of this blog it shall be), but I should explain my state of mind. You see, I was, and still partially am angry at three individuals all in possession a Y-chromosome. Them having this does not cause me to be angry with them, but more so their RETARDED behavior as of late, or past, well both. This was why I believe I was slightly more anti-male than normal.
Don't get me wrong, I do like guys, and usually feel more comfortable in their company, but sometimes boys are dumb and I've never been quick to punish, mostly to avoid a lengthy jail term and because I am lazy, so instead a little bundle of rage composed primarily of high-grade fertilizer and diesel builds up, and then KAABLAMM! I'm a feminist. To balance the universe I have decided to take cheap shots at the sex I am associated with (for the most part).
Girls are uberdumb. This is unavoidable as most girls are concerned with the opposite sex to the point that they disregard their own well being (you cannot convince me that 'heels' were ever a good idea) all to impress men who really couldn't care less. Who notices clothes / hair / nails first? Other women! Physicallities are only the beginning, though.
The problem with girls resides much deeper. Most women are angry, bitter people, watching romantic movies, hoping for the same, and left with only disappointment and hurt. To all of those women I have some advice, cram it. I mean really, he doesn't remember what flower you like best, or your pet poodle's birthday, it doesn't mean he doesn't care, only that he is stupid and doesn't realize how it is important to you. You need to tell these guys everything. They cannot read minds, nor will they even pretend too, hoping that eventually that you key into the fact that they know nothing, stop expecting miracles.
Equally dumb are girls in relationships with abusive jerks. I'm not only saying that he has to subscribe to 'Rule of Thumb Monthly', mental, emotional, psychological abuse can be just as bad. If you aren't happy, leave him. The secret for all women: you can in fact get anyone you want, so don't settle for creep-o because you think that you can change him or save him.
Next, grow up and stop gossiping. I mean you start talking about the G6's superior handling capabilities due to downforce of its aerodynamics and widetrack double-wishbone suspension, only furthered by the torque through acceleration and of course some fat-boy cheater slicks, and you have a conversation with a guy. Holding down a conversation with women is near impossible, requiring you to keep track of more twists, turns, characters, plots, and midgets than you'd find in an average episode of 'Passions'. It is FREAKING IMPOSSIBLE!
In conclusion: guys are easy-going, accepting, and fun, chickies exist as a contrast and nemesis to all of these. Why? Um, hmm, I'm not quite sure and this is getting kinda long. Ah?....
"POOF" and Carly disappears in a cloud of smoke.

Why I cry out of speeding tickets

I've heard it all before from many a guy, "Carly, I hate you SO much for playing the girl card!". For those of you not already thoroughly entertained by my stories of illelegalities behind the wheel, allow me to enlighten you. I speed, lots. That out of the way, I am not ashamed that I have screamed at cops, cried, blamed my boyfriend, cried some more, ran from cops, or other manifestations of the "girl card" to get out of a ticket.
To begin, most girls at some time or another will do this kind of thing to avoid the outrageous fines and an increase in insurance. This is not to say that I support wreckless driving. I swear, and stand by my threat, that if you cut me off, WITHOUT signaling, I will shove a wiener down your throat and a hungry dog up your rear-end, while kicking you in the nuts/ovaries as the case applies. My two rules, always use your turn signal, and wear a seatbelt. All in all, fairly simple, for other rules, I just don't care. Although the old guys in fat cars driving with cataract glasses on or brail on drive through ATMs does scare the crap out of me. But back to why I could care less what you think about me.
Guys have it easy. They really do. For starters, you can wear a baseball cap when you don't have time to shower and it isn't questioned. A girl doing this, on the other hand, instantly implies that she is hiding something or she is a jock. Thus, if you are like me, showering, even when you hit the snooze button nine or ten times, is not an avoidable option. Then you have makeup. Don't get me wrong, this is one thing that is nice for girls. Massive red spot or zit - just use cover-up, meanwhile the male counterpart would be questioned on sexual orientation or being over-enthusiastic about the soonest Kiss/Elton John concert. But if you are a guy, check some of the prices on these tiny bottles of chemicals next time you hit StupidStore. They are FREAKING expensive. I mean that one thing that you usually poke yourself in the eye with (all in the name of beauty) and then can't see and have to get rushed to emergency can cost ten bucks, easy. And you need more! Clothes are another thing that is uber-expensive. You show up in sweatpants with something written across your bum, nice for school spirit, but every other girl around is all like "hmm, yo' mama dress you?" (FYI, the correct response isn't actually yes, even if it is true, this just furthers their 'backtalk'). Oh, and if you can fit the entire word "princess" or "university of so-and-so random fierce creatures" across your backside, you are probably not the type of person who should wear those pants.
Ah yes, and there is the inevitable topic that causes men everywhere to quickly change the station when the commercial comes on TV. Also expensive. Not just said products themselves, but the drugs required to keep us from clawing your eyes out and ripping off your limbs, beating you into unconsciousness with them.
Hair is another expense, one I avoid, but one none the less. That streaking and dying and everything else girls do to impress men is obscenely expensive! I mean I can install more glow-lights or a muffler that sounds like my car is constipated for half the price.
This comes to a sizeable sum, all to keep men happy, and competition between women high. THIS IS STUPID, so excuse me if I cry my way out of a $50.00 ticket, I really don't have the cash to spare.

Pink is the new black

I have come to the conclusion that I possess obsene amounts of power. Out of boredom and random searching I came across this site, decided that since I had nothing better to do, I would sign up, and now lo-and-behold anyone I shared this with has their own blog. It took a while and lots of screw-ups to get the links but I think that they're all there, provided if you think that you are deserving of having a link on my page, leave a comment, pleading and promising favours.
Really it wasn't my intention to recruit an army for the blogger people, it kinda just happened, but I think that it is good. I mean, are we geeks? Yes, most definetly, but it's kinda just an extension of email which I usually avoid so I'll pretend it's a good thing.
As far as I can tell, people aren't able to develop enough of an independent thought, requiring acceptance from their peers, they attempt to mimic the coolest person in the group. I mean, really people just want to be looked up to and try to jump on any given bandwagon before it becomes uberpopular so it's like they were the first, or as a cry for attention. Or this could all be something that I'm telling myself to boost my own confidence (just let me stay on cloud nine a little bit longer).
Next I found some general 'rules' of blogs quickly emerging.
1) If you are a girl, you must include pink in the blog, or in some cases, only pink. For proof of this visit any of the girls' links I have, all pink, well, except for mine... hmm I think that the jury is still out on that one (at least until I can bribe them into ... wait, bribes are expensive, correction, until I can use extortion or threats to get what I want from 'said' jury... who does this jury think that they are anyway? I mean where do they get off telling us what we are and aren't?! I HATE THE JURY SO MUCH... oh, yeah, um, no pink).
2) Your first blog must be the most unimaginative run-on sentence containing phrases of blame towards those who apparently 'forced' you into creating the blog and general chatter about your daily lives without any real insight. Yup, I mean get creative so that you can look back at these in many a year/month/week/day and say, "Wow, I'm a freaking GENIUS!" or in most cases "Um, how can I erase this? NOW?!".
3) Well I guess I don't really have a third point yet but you can bet your sweet Bipie that it's coming.
As I presently have to catch the peewagon I shall continue my in-depth discussing in belittleing all of you at a later time.
Boo-doom-ba-cha (that crappy drum roll some people to to conclude things when they really are to dumb to sum everything up logically).