A Bunch of Crap to Try and Fill the Void

Well, it’s been a week and none of us have said shit all. Sorry about that. But that’s what happens when one of us gets laid out by a wicked cold, he seems to be over it, we have a party, and then wam! The other one gets the same wicked cold and the first one realizes nope, I’m not quite over it. So I figure I’ll just throw a bunch of stuff together.

First off, this cold is a bastard. It seems to find its way to every corner of the world, fucking up the lives of people everywhere. It’s nuts. And it seems to vary its bag of tricks depending on the person. For Steve, it made him hurt all over, filled his ears with crap so he felt like he was deaf, and took his energy, along with making his throat hurt like hell and making him want to cough all the time. For me, it has made me sound like Steve’s 9-year-old cousin, a boy I might add. All I have to do is add a lisp and it’s bang on. Plus it’s making me cough all the damn time. But thankfully I can still hear, which is good because I have to go out and do things today, and that means needing to hear to cross streets. I don’t feel like being cold-ridden road-pizza. I just hope I’m not still fighting this two weeks later like poor Steve is.

I think I’ve found a wee small problem with this building. We have one hell of a whiny bitch of a neighbour. Ok, I think there have been four times this month that the management has been at our door, in the middle of the day I might add, to ask us if we have music up loud. Then they stare at us, befuddled, wondering why they have been sent. There was one time when the music was up kind of loud, but it wasn’t even late!

Apparently there’s a woman in this building who just had a baby, who just can’t stand noise. She’s even been told that her baby’s crise are louder than the music she’s hearing. AT least the management is being cool about this whole thing and knows that we’re not trouble. But come on! She makes us feel that we can’t even live our lives normally. What really pisses me off is I know what it’s like to live beside a noisy neighbour. Don’t believe me? I lived beside Stupidhead and Ditzomatic. I know a noisy neighbour, and it burns me up to be painted with the same brush for no good reason. At least she’s only hear for another month.

I was watching an episode of Star Trek Voyager on the weekend, and something profoundly pissed me off. It’s small, but to me, it’s not so small. Allow me to geek out for a second. There was this weird episode where a bunch of people were in stasis for years, but their minds were being kept active in an artificial environment. This environment was programmed to change, to respond to their needs. Somehow, since they were all afraid that something might go wrong, all their fears manifested themselves into this weird clown character. Ok, geeking over. At one point, one of the crew said, “Like the man said, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Uh, ahem, the man? The fucking man? How about we put a name on this, uh, man. Let me give you a helping hand. It starts with Franklin and ends with Roosevelt and there’s a D in the middle. It happened in this fucking century and it was a president of the nation in which the creators of this series live.

Maybe it pisses me off even more because the person with whom I was sitting actually thought this was made up by the script writers and given to the guy who plays Harry Kim. Oh how clever of them. How profound and novel. They’re so brilliant. Um, nope. This is a chance to teach some people who may not know about history a little bit about history. But they chose to say, the man. Maybe the script writers don’t know who said it either. Go look it up. Google knows, why don’t you?

I was reading a few blogs I often read, and I need some second opinions. I want to know whether or not I am an insensitive bitch. I came across this post, and was left going, what’s the problem? Short summary. While sitting at a table beside some loud, drunken folk, some black people walked by who were described as:
obviously decked out — quite atrociously so — for homecoming festivities. One gentleman in particular sported a baby blue pimp suit and all of the guys had on sunglasses…at 8:30pm. They knew they were slammin.

Note the author is making fun of these guys.

Then she says the loud white drunks at the next table started calling them the Jackson five and doing a wacky dance and laughing at them. She thought this was horribly racist and made loud remarks to that effect.

Um, maybe the drunk guys were making fun of them because they probably looked like the, um, er, Jackson Five. The author herself thought they looked ridiculous and like goofs. So what’s the problem? If a bunch of white guys went by dressed in stupid outfits and somebody laughed and said, “Look, there goes NSYNC,” would that be racist too? I hope so. Now, if these so-called douches were constantly making jokes about watermellons and fried chhicken, then yep, I’m totally on side. Call them racists. Hell, stick a sign on their heads, I’ll supply the tape. But until then, I don’t quite follow.

I admit that I wasn’t there and I don’t live in the U.S. and I’m not black, but that sounded like innocent fun. But everyone seems to agree with her. So what am I missing? I left a comment and it’s pending moderation.

Oh shit, I suppose since I have to be out of here soon, I should get ready. See ya later.

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