Tuesday, March 31, 2009

act like it.

bitch, get your stroller wheel off my shoe.

the morning subway commute spawned its usual insightful nugget when a stroller wheel dared to trespass on my shoe. i realized that not only should some form of legislation prohibit such apparatuses on an already marginal system of public transportation, but said legislation should also impose certain stipulations on children altogether.

get ready for this, bitches.

so a dear friend of mine shared this website with me yesterday, appropriately titled why the fuck do you have a kid.com. for reals. what is it about having children that people find so appealing? despite the ridiculous societal expectations, of course. look at all the problems children are causing in the world right now.

AIDS in africa--children are proliferating this disease. uneducated parents infected with HIV and AIDS are having children, not realizing they're natally passing the disease down to their children, and basically ensuring its survival. they're ensuring the survival of a fatal disease over that of their offspring. this world needs to simply educate these people, hold mass tribunals so they can understand their actions. get AIDS under control so natal transmission ceases. you would think common sense would set in automatically to initiate this principle, yet the world is all panty-ruffling over the pople's stupid condom comment. i really can't with that.

what kills me are the many things in the world that require a license, compared with the many things that don't. you need a multitude of licenses to operate a variety of vehicles, from cars to tractors to mopeds, and why? because without proper certification, improper operation of aforementioned vehicles could result in death, rendering such vehicles potential weapons. yet at the same time, improper raising of a child could easily yield a sociopath, a serial killer, the next geoffrey dahmer. the next charles manson. the next adolf hitler. we're all familiar with the wrongdoings of these three notorious men, but from where did their abhorrent behavior come? obviously, the parents. in her article "if only hitler's father had been nicer," daphne merkin directly references the abuse young hitler sustained at the hands of his father, as well as that of stalin and mao. now i'm not saying that all children who come from abusive families, obviously unfit to rear a child, will become such highly-regarded, yet destructive people. i know a few people whose childhoods were full of tears and bruises who have become the most copacetic, lovely people i know, but it just goes to show what could happen. what has happened, and what will continue to happen if unfit humans are allowed to proliferate their destructive ideals to their offspring.

i think pro-life weirdos who yield thousands of improperly-raised children by a "quantity, not quality" tenet are just as destructive as doctors who administer abortions. they're merely littering the world with useless humans who will cause more harm than good simply by existing without proper morality and education, resulting from the simple fact that the parents weren't able to administer such care, impacted by their lack of proper parental wisdom. just because a uterus can contain a fetus doesn't mean it has to.
take octo mom, for instance. had she been pre-screened and evaluated for proper maternal abilities, none of this mess would have happened. instead, she throws eight little pieces of trash into this world, admits she was to rely on the rest of this country to support her through welfare, and rests assured in the fact that she made the right decision. as a result, nadya suleman screwed her own life, her own children, and the government, not to mention her lips (and her poor nipples), without even being screwed. this is an I CAN'T of the week! you're not a jellyfish, honey.

i'm not a completely unsympathetic idealist who refuses to see beyond that cynical practicality of procreation. obviously i recognize there's a certain sense of beauty associated with having children. many people feel birthing a child consummates their being a family, so if they want to be that wholesome kind of family, why shouldn't they first prove themselves worthy of such a feat? if only to guarantee that child will survive this world and come out a winner. to guarantee their upbringing will be as sound and healthy as they deserve. to guarantee they won't spend summer afternoons knee-deep in dog shit wading in a baby pool in the back yard. to guarantee they won't wake up malnourished, only to find moldy captain crunch in a cabinet crawling with roaches. to guarantee they won't be whispered about by teachers because of suspicious bruises. to guarantee they won't be denied medical care because of their impoverished parent or parents' inability to pay for it.

and what happens when two people who so deservedly, on the surface, are found to be unfit to bring a child into this world? then they go to what i'd like to call procreation college. give them a dose of education their parents never had or passed down. prevent the serial killers before they spawn. save my shoes.

it's still the land of the free and all, right? so, in that tradition of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, wouldn't you want your child to enjoy all three?


Monday, March 30, 2009

monday i can'ts

i'm sudafedrunk today.

new york city is full of crazy people (big shit, bryanambition. we know this. duh.) but for real. and my highly-medicated state on the subway today really made me more perceptive to the crazy. first, on the 2 train, this old gal emitted a shrill noise, to the dismay and surprise of her fellow passengers, then simply dismissed it with an acknowledging smile. then she did it again. and again. by the third time, i laughed out loud because i realized she didn't care, so why should i?

then on the Q, this old guy was like a patron saint to all the straphangers, in that he vocalized what we were all thinking, but then it got out of hand. "come on, get this fucking thing moving!" he exclaimed. we all nodded in approval. "i don't have time for this!" i mean, you could tell his elevator didn't go to the top floor just by looking at him. but each and every stop elicited another comment from him, and to tell you the truth, those automated trains announcing the stops are too much for me to handle the way it is, and i definitely didn't need this double narration.

one final thought--crazy people always smile at themselves. i think they're genuinely happy.

ok i'm going home to sleep the afternoon (and this horrible flu) off.
peace, bitches.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

all we need

hey fellow LGBT members! now we have a place to go to when we get old and gross and need people to slide bedpans underneath our drippy asses--it's called rainbow vision, and i can't wait until they open a chelsea branch! (and if you ever refer to me as a member of the "lgbt community," you can count yourself excommunicated from my community)

to quote a really clever facebook status i recently came across (ok, posted), "there's nothing worse than being old, faggoty and incontinent."

wow, tuesday really got fabulous all of a sudden.


you know it's going to be a shitshow of a day when, while fastening your belt for the first time in the morning, you find it makes its way to the innermost hole, indicating you've lost yet another pound and conveniently reminding you, "oh, right--i haven't eaten three meals in several days."
last night's entree of a sleeping pill washed down with copious amounts of water laced with it may really work/it may not really work airborne, purely for preventative purposes or maybe just for the hell of it, may not have been the best idea, but at the time it made the most sense. yesterday's hasty lunch of a dripping burger was my one indulgence of the week, and it didn't fall short of reminding me of that via many tasty burps since, so my appetite was just short of diminished at 10pm when i was finally able to sit down and consider the food situation.

**at this point, i could totally launch into an attack of how it's the fault of this f-ing city that no real meal structure exists and condemn the demise of any real domestic structure, but i'll spare that shit for a cranky monday**

contrary to popular belief, i don't monitor my dietary intake to avoid weight gain (i can't gain any) so i just chalk it up to my list of the many inevitable things i fear, and the accompanying anxiety makes it that much easier to boost the metab. among potential threats of kidney stones, prostate cancer, age spots, wrinkles, undereye bags and discoloration, adult acne, and open water, getting fat is the only real avoidable one. and due to the regrettable fact that being an american automatically predisposes me to a compromised life of obesity and ill-fitting jeans, i refuse to follow the normal man's path to eating and needing and instead stuff myself into the slenderest pantalones i can find as a way of showcase and maintenance.

if you build it, they will come.

if you stuff it, they will tough it.

see, it's purely a matter of logic and restraint.

and what a shame my mother never wanted me to come out in a kimono.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

the I CAN'T of the day

so in today's amNEWYORK, page four's headlining article read, "doomsday for straphangers,' obviously in reference to the outrageous fare hikes we proletarian advocates of public transportation must endure.

because this isn't doomsday already.

i really need to get over my grievances with the subway.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009


i live a caffeinated existence.

new york freaks me out. fer reals. there's so much pressure to be; to be here; to be there; to be prim; to be proper; to be in season; to be on time; to be fashionably late; to meet; to greet; to live; to lie; to fake it; to make it; to fake it (in order to make it); to turn on; to turn off; to project; to aim; to flame; to listen to and most importantly, to be heard.

new york city is one big infinitive, and that annoys the shit out of me, because unless you can conjugate it, you'll never find your own place.

without offending the proprietary sense of the word, i'm going to say new york is a mecca. people come here, and it's always in pursuit of something. nobody says, "let's escape to manhattan for a nice, relaxing weekend." unless you're spending that weekend in the orangerie on the roof of the apthorp, you're not relaxing anywhere. even in the midst of the most sultry, copasetic summer afternoon spent in a desolate corner of central park, the anxiety that surges through the city's arteries and keeps this frenetic island afloat seeps up through the sod and into your life.
so yeah, people come here with the hope that whatever it is they're looking for will be found in its purest form, just hanging out in the east fucking village, or whatever district is currently in vogue.

and it's always going. no wonder coke's back.
i hope i don't sound bitter. i just found it slightly unnerving that my commute to work today is, was, and has always been enveloped in a caffeine high with motivational music blaring in my ears, hidden behind the darkest sunglasses i could find and like my least favorite holiday, that being new years eve, is the most anticlimactic activity one can engage in. it's like i travel in a pod because everything else is too much to handle, and at the end of this elaborate ritual, nothing but a routine workday is to be found.
i suppose you can take the boy out of wilkes-barre, but you can't take the wilkes-barre out of the boy. then again, the day i start speaking in double-negatives and incorrect participles will be the day i'm reminded why i sought new york in the first place.

peace out, whores. the summer's coming!

Thursday, March 19, 2009

rants and shit

ok here i go with the subway again. a dear friend recently related the tale of how one of her mexican clients gave her a newly-discovered wondercream, the active ingredient consisting of human embryo, and considering my intense dislike for children, i was more than intrigued.
then this (see above) happened on the subway this morning.
why not just give the fucking baby and his m1a2 abrams tank of a carriage their own subway line? this is getting out of hand. either prohibit carriages on subways or manhattan altogeth. leave the babies in the boroughs.

and speaking of boroughs, let's talk brooklyn for a minute. i don't hate brooklyn. i don't even vaguely dislike it, but some things that proprietarily belong there should simply be left there. case-in-point, girls who wear ugly glasses.

despite the $15 she was paid to pose in this american apparel ad, does she honestly believe she looks good wearing these glasses? is she so completely deluded that she convinces herself that those sophia petrillo-esque frames compliment the delicate lines and folds of her face? obviously. old granny glasses are for vintage eyeglasses boutiques and senior citizens' nightstands, not for 24 year-olds. lissssen up, ladies: i don't know who you think you are, or who you're pretending to be, but if you're going to ruin your face with a pair of gross glasses that should never have been in vogue to begin with, please stay within the confines of the brooklyn side of the L train and stop polluting my island with your marginal attempt at individuality.

lastly, i came across this little quote i bbm'd to another dear friend in the midst of a rather haughty party at greenhouse last night that drew every rambunctious queen into its forest of fabulous faux flora. i was inspired by a rather audacious display of bad weavage, a picture i was tempted to capture in the blackberry, but couldn't bring myself to actually ask permish to take it, for fear i'd rip it out and laugh at the blood that flowed.
"it's either 'just because you've got jeans so skinny they could be surgical stockings,' or 'just because you've got a bad weave in the front doesn't mean you can pee where the vaginas are.'"
excuse the improper sentence syntax, but i was in a hurry to axepress thyself.

love ya, kids.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

all in love is fair

no, it isn't.

boredom breeds irritability

so here i am marooned in PA blogging sans commactual punctuation because for some odd reason my comma key has stopped working but anywho i came across this shoddy performance of my favorite concerto ever bach's brandenberg no.3 in g major allegro and i wanted to share it with the world.
it's no one's fault really. one must take into consideration the extreme complexity of a three-part composition and the fact that half of this orchestra took a little too much ambien the night before. momma hasn't had her coffee yet.
so i have to go. enjoy.