Despair, anguish, woe.
This is how it feels
To read malformed words
Mourning tragic death
Of real poetry.
I'll be the first to admit that my above "poem" is hardly a mellifluous masterpiece. In fact it's quite an assault to the mind. But, at least I recognise that and don't try to purport it as deep and meaningful and a work of linguistic art. Because it's not. It's just a few words that I pulled off the top of my head and gave a forlorn countenance to. It's a far cry from inspired poetry.
You know what else is a far cry from poetry? The stupid scrawls that way too many stupid teenagers write and then post on their social networking sites and send to their friends and adorn their books with. You think that you are so tortured and that typing the word "misery" into Thesaurus.com and dividing the results into more manageable sized lines perfectly encompasses all that you are feeling. Not only is your poetry crap, but also, nobody cares. You may be sad, but your distortion of perfectly beautiful language into pseudo-emotive drivel makes ME sad. And when I get sad about somebody butchering English, I post incoherent blog entries.
If you are dispirited, eat chocolate. Don't construct unoriginal and ambiguous compositions. If you must channel your desperation into literature, please have the courtesy to make your creations structurally sound, avant garde, and compelling. If I ever chance upon one more poem about the tribulations that you chronicle so disconsolately, like nobody else has ever felt pain before, my brain will bleed.
Then again, I blog about the most mundane, boring topics. The fact that I even blog at all encompasses the conviction that I am hardly a literary genius. Maybe budding poets shouldn't listen to me- keep relentlessly posting your pathetic poetry and perhaps someone who cares will chance upon it.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
I finally understand why everybody loves iPhones.
Since the advent of iPhones, I have been neglectant to praise them. I have always glanced at them enviously from afar before pulling out my ancient brick-phone and lucratively offered to trade. But I have never held one of those blocks of decadence, costing the better part of $1000, in my lower-class hands (complete with tacky chipped pink nail polish on my dirty digits). Thus, I have never understood the magnitude of the awesomeness of iPhones. However, all that changed today, when I was afforded a glimpse at affluence.
Since Claire's parents deigned to buy her (and the rest of her family!) iPhones, she has been obsessed. Look at her at any moment and sure enough, she'll be tapping away on Facebook or one of her many applications. I have never understood this addiction, but it all makes sense now. This morning she queried about whether or not I took pleasure in popping bubble wrap. Of course I do- there are few things more pleasurable than destroying perfectly recyclable and non-biodegradable bubbles of plastic beyond recognition. Apparently this is a nerdy habit, which makes this story relevant to my frequently off-topic blog.
So, as Claire informed me, there is an bubble wrap app on her iPhone. And the bubbles replenish themselves after a second or so. It's fantastic! She handed me her phone so I could sample the awesomest app ever, and I fell in love. With her iPhone. Because of a simple bubble wrap game. It's obvious why it's appealing, why would you pay a few dollars for a sheet of bubble wrap when you can purchase a pricey iPhone, pay to download your bubble wrap, and then bash at the screen, thereby destroying your investment? It's genius. I want one, but will probably never get one due to a condition known as penury.
I will never regard my brick phone in quite the same esteem again.
Since Claire's parents deigned to buy her (and the rest of her family!) iPhones, she has been obsessed. Look at her at any moment and sure enough, she'll be tapping away on Facebook or one of her many applications. I have never understood this addiction, but it all makes sense now. This morning she queried about whether or not I took pleasure in popping bubble wrap. Of course I do- there are few things more pleasurable than destroying perfectly recyclable and non-biodegradable bubbles of plastic beyond recognition. Apparently this is a nerdy habit, which makes this story relevant to my frequently off-topic blog.
So, as Claire informed me, there is an bubble wrap app on her iPhone. And the bubbles replenish themselves after a second or so. It's fantastic! She handed me her phone so I could sample the awesomest app ever, and I fell in love. With her iPhone. Because of a simple bubble wrap game. It's obvious why it's appealing, why would you pay a few dollars for a sheet of bubble wrap when you can purchase a pricey iPhone, pay to download your bubble wrap, and then bash at the screen, thereby destroying your investment? It's genius. I want one, but will probably never get one due to a condition known as penury.
I will never regard my brick phone in quite the same esteem again.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
An exciting typical english class.
Currently I am sitting in English class, which is not as treacherous and mind-numbingly monotonous as usual due to an exciting new development: my teacher seems to have wagged the class. I think she's onto something there and I am starting to envy her for not being in here. Although it is not as loud as usual because an inordinate amount of my class seem to be absent, including the very loudest members, much to my delight. So, with little to complain about, I thought it might be beneficial (to no-one) if I blog about the events of this insightful and educational class.
At 2:15pm the bell rang, signifying the end of the delicious freedom of lunchtime and the start of a torturous hour. I sluggishly walked to my locker and shoved some books into my inconveniently oversized bag. Unfortunately I neglected to bring real work.
2:20pm. My class has assembled outside V3 and are discussing the likelihood of Ms. Barker being away, and how orgasmic that would be. Much to our esctasy, a substitute teacher whose body shape is remiscent of an apple on a stick materialises and opens the door, instructing us to file inside. Nobody does. She spends the next thirty seconds gently coercing us into entering the door of doom.
2:21pm. I ask if I can work in the VCE centre. "Have you read the book?" the teacher (who I did not catch the name of) demands.
"Yes."
"Have you done the questions?"
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"Well no, you can't leave this classroom."
2:25pm I go to retrieve a laptop from the laptop lady who is more than familiar with me now. Five or so students slowly file in, late.
2:35pm The laptop finally starts up and remains unfrozen long enough for me to open IE. I entertain myself for the ten minutes it takes by whinging about our school's insufficient resources.
2:40pm I realise that I can get on to MySpace from the school computers.
2:41pm I get bored of MySpace.
2:45pm The apple shaped teacher reprimands the class for foul language. If only she could hear us when half the class wasn't wagging. I begin to blog.
2:46pm A minty smell wafts through the room. This makes me think of mint slice biscuits. Which makes me think of chocolate. I could be eating chocolate but instead I am sitting in this stupid room with paper-thin collapsible walls. Life is not fair.
2:53pm One of the only people in the class who appears to be constructively doing work asks me how to answer a question. Unfortunately I can't help because when I did that question, I pulled the answer out of nowhere and seeded in irrelevant quotes.
2:58pm The apple shaped teacher gets up and leaves the room. The noise level within the depths of hell raises. All I can hear is "Ow, ow, stop it!" from two different people, in different circumstances. One of them stops. Presumed cause of death: boredom.
3:00pm I run out of things to blog about. Waiting until something else happens. I do the hard puzzle on Miss Bimbo.
3:01pm Several students erupt into song. I won't question it. Teacher walks back in and singing continues.
3:02pm One of the singing students begins to make the sounds that I make when I imitate my class. It sounds like "unhh-unhh-unnhhh-unhh" and can be imagined to be combined with hand action that resemble claps.
3:04pm The teacher takes the role. The fat role boy stands behind her, shuffling his feet and pacing. She finishes the role, several students ask if she has called their names as they weren't listening. The teacher begins to ask several people what their parents' first names are, professing that she went to primary school with them.
3:07pm I still cannot access Facebook. More singing from some of the louder members of the class. I am waiting for one of the Miss Bimbo games to load, currently it is not making much progress so I am not holding out much hope.
3:10pm I finally tire of sitting here and updating my blog. If I wanted to do that I would sign up to Twitter. Time to pack up.
At 2:15pm the bell rang, signifying the end of the delicious freedom of lunchtime and the start of a torturous hour. I sluggishly walked to my locker and shoved some books into my inconveniently oversized bag. Unfortunately I neglected to bring real work.
2:20pm. My class has assembled outside V3 and are discussing the likelihood of Ms. Barker being away, and how orgasmic that would be. Much to our esctasy, a substitute teacher whose body shape is remiscent of an apple on a stick materialises and opens the door, instructing us to file inside. Nobody does. She spends the next thirty seconds gently coercing us into entering the door of doom.
2:21pm. I ask if I can work in the VCE centre. "Have you read the book?" the teacher (who I did not catch the name of) demands.
"Yes."
"Have you done the questions?"
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"Well no, you can't leave this classroom."
2:25pm I go to retrieve a laptop from the laptop lady who is more than familiar with me now. Five or so students slowly file in, late.
2:35pm The laptop finally starts up and remains unfrozen long enough for me to open IE. I entertain myself for the ten minutes it takes by whinging about our school's insufficient resources.
2:40pm I realise that I can get on to MySpace from the school computers.
2:41pm I get bored of MySpace.
2:45pm The apple shaped teacher reprimands the class for foul language. If only she could hear us when half the class wasn't wagging. I begin to blog.
2:46pm A minty smell wafts through the room. This makes me think of mint slice biscuits. Which makes me think of chocolate. I could be eating chocolate but instead I am sitting in this stupid room with paper-thin collapsible walls. Life is not fair.
2:53pm One of the only people in the class who appears to be constructively doing work asks me how to answer a question. Unfortunately I can't help because when I did that question, I pulled the answer out of nowhere and seeded in irrelevant quotes.
2:58pm The apple shaped teacher gets up and leaves the room. The noise level within the depths of hell raises. All I can hear is "Ow, ow, stop it!" from two different people, in different circumstances. One of them stops. Presumed cause of death: boredom.
3:00pm I run out of things to blog about. Waiting until something else happens. I do the hard puzzle on Miss Bimbo.
3:01pm Several students erupt into song. I won't question it. Teacher walks back in and singing continues.
3:02pm One of the singing students begins to make the sounds that I make when I imitate my class. It sounds like "unhh-unhh-unnhhh-unhh" and can be imagined to be combined with hand action that resemble claps.
3:04pm The teacher takes the role. The fat role boy stands behind her, shuffling his feet and pacing. She finishes the role, several students ask if she has called their names as they weren't listening. The teacher begins to ask several people what their parents' first names are, professing that she went to primary school with them.
3:07pm I still cannot access Facebook. More singing from some of the louder members of the class. I am waiting for one of the Miss Bimbo games to load, currently it is not making much progress so I am not holding out much hope.
3:10pm I finally tire of sitting here and updating my blog. If I wanted to do that I would sign up to Twitter. Time to pack up.
Proof that Andrew O'Keefe is hot.
No matter how adamant I am, most people I encounter refuse to believe my assertion that Andrew O'Keefe, the host of Deal or No Deal, is the cutest person to ever grace channel seven. Actually it wouldn't be that hard to be the sexiest channel seven-er, but I digress- Andrew O'Keefe is totally hot. Observe:
How cute is he! However, overwhelming photographic evidence is too often disregarded by doubters of Andrew O'Keefe's supremacy. As such, new evidence must be brought to light. A substantiation that the nerds who read my nerd blog will appreciate the enormity of must be posed in order to dissipate those who contest his cuteness. This is the smoking gun. Are you ready?
According to the infinite wisdom of Wikipedia; way back in 1989, when Andrew O'Keefe was still in high school, he was a member of the winning team of the National Schools Debating Championships.
How gorgeous is that! He's a nerd like you (presumably) and me! Andrew O'Keefe suddenly became SO much cuter.
How cute is he! However, overwhelming photographic evidence is too often disregarded by doubters of Andrew O'Keefe's supremacy. As such, new evidence must be brought to light. A substantiation that the nerds who read my nerd blog will appreciate the enormity of must be posed in order to dissipate those who contest his cuteness. This is the smoking gun. Are you ready?
According to the infinite wisdom of Wikipedia; way back in 1989, when Andrew O'Keefe was still in high school, he was a member of the winning team of the National Schools Debating Championships.
How gorgeous is that! He's a nerd like you (presumably) and me! Andrew O'Keefe suddenly became SO much cuter.
Monday, July 27, 2009
The best thing about sleep is...
...NOTHING.
It's currently 10:22 pm, meaning that at some time in the near future I will have to switch off my beloved computer, pack away my overused textbooks, abandon my gargantuan to-do list, and go lie in bed DOING NOTHING for the next seven or eight hours so that I can get up and do the same things I do every day, tomorrow morning. How pointless is that. I can't DO anything constructive during my sleep, except concoct weird dreams that scare me so much I wake up and can't go back to sleep, like that recurring nightmare that I get demoted into remedial classes. That's right, not only do I study in my waking hours, but I even dream about school.
I could be doing actual productive things with my sleeping time if I wasn't busy being asleep. In seven hours, I could finish that damn maths exercise I've been stuck on, history homework, study stuff, vacuum my floor, call a few people, re-organise my wardrobe, and raise my bimbo's IQ by sending her to the library every half hour. Instead of doing all of these wonderful and intellectually stimulating things, I am sitting here blogging about it. If I didn't need to sleep, I wouldn't need to blog. Actually maybe sleep isn't the problem at all. Maybe it's blogging. Sorry.
Goodnight blog!
It's currently 10:22 pm, meaning that at some time in the near future I will have to switch off my beloved computer, pack away my overused textbooks, abandon my gargantuan to-do list, and go lie in bed DOING NOTHING for the next seven or eight hours so that I can get up and do the same things I do every day, tomorrow morning. How pointless is that. I can't DO anything constructive during my sleep, except concoct weird dreams that scare me so much I wake up and can't go back to sleep, like that recurring nightmare that I get demoted into remedial classes. That's right, not only do I study in my waking hours, but I even dream about school.
I could be doing actual productive things with my sleeping time if I wasn't busy being asleep. In seven hours, I could finish that damn maths exercise I've been stuck on, history homework, study stuff, vacuum my floor, call a few people, re-organise my wardrobe, and raise my bimbo's IQ by sending her to the library every half hour. Instead of doing all of these wonderful and intellectually stimulating things, I am sitting here blogging about it. If I didn't need to sleep, I wouldn't need to blog. Actually maybe sleep isn't the problem at all. Maybe it's blogging. Sorry.
Goodnight blog!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Only the illiterate judge a book by its cover.
There is a well-known adage that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover- these apparent words of wisdom have graced the lips of decrepit old women and inspirational gift books since the dawn of the printing press. The premise that one shouldn't base their assumptions of people on their appearance or superficial first impressions; is pretentious and unrealistic. If I'm not going to judge someone based on how they immediately appear, what do you propose I judge them by? Their personality or achievements? I don't think so!
Most assumptions that one makes based on someone's appearance tend to be vaguely right. If someone looks smart, they probably are. If someone seems like they've been brought up by lesbian parents*, then they probably have. If someone appears dog-ugly, then they most likely are related to me. It's just the way things are.
The only people who don't want to be judged on their appearance are those that are butt-ugly. And most of them have other things wrong with them anyway, like personality. I tend to think that judging someone based on appearance is judging them favourably, because many people are aesthetically more appealing than their character ever will be.
Illiterate people are seriously onto something by judging a book by its cover. Let's burn all libraries and live like cavemen wearing freshly-skinned bloody animal furs and make cave paintings all day. And yes, I can say what I want about illiterate people because they can't read this. End rant.
*Not a dig at lesbians- seriously, I once met this girl and the first thing I thought was that she was brought up by lesbian parents. A few hours later, guess what she tells me? That's right.
Most assumptions that one makes based on someone's appearance tend to be vaguely right. If someone looks smart, they probably are. If someone seems like they've been brought up by lesbian parents*, then they probably have. If someone appears dog-ugly, then they most likely are related to me. It's just the way things are.
The only people who don't want to be judged on their appearance are those that are butt-ugly. And most of them have other things wrong with them anyway, like personality. I tend to think that judging someone based on appearance is judging them favourably, because many people are aesthetically more appealing than their character ever will be.
Illiterate people are seriously onto something by judging a book by its cover. Let's burn all libraries and live like cavemen wearing freshly-skinned bloody animal furs and make cave paintings all day. And yes, I can say what I want about illiterate people because they can't read this. End rant.
*Not a dig at lesbians- seriously, I once met this girl and the first thing I thought was that she was brought up by lesbian parents. A few hours later, guess what she tells me? That's right.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The definitive list of useless appendages.
The human body is a wonderfully retarded thing. Yet there are many appendages which are irrelevant to the purposes we utilise it for. A list is the best way of documenting such useless limbs, actually that is a bit of a lie, but I just happen to like lists.
1. Reproductive organs of nerds
We will never get the chance to use them unless we become really rich, so might as well perform an amputation.
2. Body hair
While technically this is not an organ, and could be classified better as a growth, it is disgusting and everyone should laser it off. In fact all hair should be abolished with the exception of head (not facial) hair.
3. Cheeks
Nothing good happens to cheeks. They get pimply, they get freckly, they get hairy and, in the case of infants, get smeared in disgusting baby food. If we had no cheeks, we wouldn't have this problem.
4. Ears
Also useless, except in the case of people who adorn their ears with sparkly earrings. Ears are also aesthetically repugnant and remind me of a snail shell (luckily they are usually less slimy).
5. Appendixes
Apparently they're ACTUALLY useless according to people who know what their talking about. Personally I have nothing against appendixes.
6. Thighs
Very few girls are happy with their thighs. Usually this is because they are fat. If we had no thighs, the amount of eating disorders would halve. Actually that's a lie because apparently eating disorders such as anorexia and bulimia aren't because of fatness but a mental disorder, so the amount of cases would more or less be static. But, it couldn't hurt to get rid of thighs. Actually that's a lie too because I imagine that an amputation would be excruciatingly painful.
7. Feet
They are disgusting. They can be hairy and smelly and have diseases like tinea. Yet, they are one of the most awesome appendages ever, because they can be adorned by sexy shoes.
8. Legs
Who needs to walk anyway. Let's all sit in front of our computers all day.
9. Brains
Most people rarely use them. In fact I'm very proud of myself for keeping mine in mint condition.
10. The digestive system
If we didn't have a digestive system, we wouldn't have fat people. Or any need for food. So all of the starving children's AND the fat people's problems will be solved.
As you can see I would make a great world dictator.
1. Reproductive organs of nerds
We will never get the chance to use them unless we become really rich, so might as well perform an amputation.
2. Body hair
While technically this is not an organ, and could be classified better as a growth, it is disgusting and everyone should laser it off. In fact all hair should be abolished with the exception of head (not facial) hair.
3. Cheeks
Nothing good happens to cheeks. They get pimply, they get freckly, they get hairy and, in the case of infants, get smeared in disgusting baby food. If we had no cheeks, we wouldn't have this problem.
4. Ears
Also useless, except in the case of people who adorn their ears with sparkly earrings. Ears are also aesthetically repugnant and remind me of a snail shell (luckily they are usually less slimy).
5. Appendixes
Apparently they're ACTUALLY useless according to people who know what their talking about. Personally I have nothing against appendixes.
6. Thighs
Very few girls are happy with their thighs. Usually this is because they are fat. If we had no thighs, the amount of eating disorders would halve. Actually that's a lie because apparently eating disorders such as anorexia and bulimia aren't because of fatness but a mental disorder, so the amount of cases would more or less be static. But, it couldn't hurt to get rid of thighs. Actually that's a lie too because I imagine that an amputation would be excruciatingly painful.
7. Feet
They are disgusting. They can be hairy and smelly and have diseases like tinea. Yet, they are one of the most awesome appendages ever, because they can be adorned by sexy shoes.
8. Legs
Who needs to walk anyway. Let's all sit in front of our computers all day.
9. Brains
Most people rarely use them. In fact I'm very proud of myself for keeping mine in mint condition.
10. The digestive system
If we didn't have a digestive system, we wouldn't have fat people. Or any need for food. So all of the starving children's AND the fat people's problems will be solved.
As you can see I would make a great world dictator.
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