Attack of the Tweeners

We were sparing in Krav today, and I ended up going with one of the advanced students, who didn't seem to realize the difference in fighting me, and fighting someone who's much bigger than me.

Anyways, he beat the ever loving crap out of me, and now I'm pissed and in pain. I needed to eat something but didn't want to eat anything, so I decided to split the difference and get a smoothy. I went to my local smoothie place only to find it full of teenage girls.

The kind of teenage girls who wear daisy dukes and a light hoody in 40 degree weather, and who apparently don't know their own names since one of them took my smoothy.

The horror...The giggling....

I realize part of it is projection from dealing with the jerk in Krav class, but I haven't hated teenage girls this much since I left high school.

AAAAAHHHH!!!!

Stupid freaky tornado warnings. Rotating storms and gallons of dumping rain.

Some of us left the Midwest for a reason ya know!!

Curse you INTERNETS!!!

CURSE YOU!!!!!

Why is it the only thing that I can access are Google sites?

It's a conspiracy I tells ya.

Well, when I can access something besides blogger or the google search engine, I'll post an AMV.

CURSE YOU WORD!!!

CURSE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

May Clippy be forever trapped in the paper jams of hell for what you've done to me!

Death to Clippy!! Death to Clippy for this never-ending torturous maze of auto-formatting that he's trapped me in.

CURSE YOU!! WORD!!


Update: Did you know that if your Times New Roman font is set small enough, the number 7 looks italicized even though it's not?

It's all part of Clippy's plan to destroy my sanity.

Update Update: I need to think of something else. Let's see...

I've been watching Naruto episodes online at naruto magic and last night I watched episode 137. In this episode, Sakura, the ingenue of our ninja story, finally achieves self-actualization and realizes just how pathetic she actually is.

I kind of want to throw a Sakura Self-Awareness party, sort of like the "Tasha Yarr is Dead" party my family threw when our favorite Star Fleet Security Officer bit the dust, but frankly, nobody else around here is into Naruto.

I could move to Seattle, just to access the amazing geek population they have over there.

What do I get? Aging Hipsters. Heaven help me.

Dang IT!!

Dang it! Dang it! Dang it!

From the blog StrangeMaps comes this beauty from The National Geographic Magazine(which has been haunting my dreams of late, but that's an entirely different story.)



Well, it explains some things anyway.

Found via Ace of Spades.

DANG IT!! Curse You National Geographic!! What did I ever do to you?!

I think I need a little help expressing my true feelings. So I'm reposting an old classic. Take it away Jack Bauer.

Ahh!!

Curse you Ticketmaster!! CURSE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!

From the fiery pits, I spit at you!!

We hates tricksy Ticketmaster! We Hates them! And their overpriced, un-user-friendly ripoff.

Hates Them Precious!!

The Legend of Hot Dog Guy

* Not the actual hot dog guy

A little background for this story. It happened when I was just a young ninja, working in a convienance store during summer break from Ninja State University. As part of my initiation into the ranks of the employed, I had to clean..wait for it... the Hot Dog Machine. DUM Dum DUMMMM.

It was nasty. I'm talking Creature of the Black Lagoon nasty with the cloying grease, the thick hot dog rich odors, the mystery substance on the rollers that Would Not Come Off, and in the trap, the horrible sludge of hot dog water.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Anyway, the next day I went on my blind date with HDG. I had just gotten off and I was starving. He asked "So, what would you like to do?"

This really should've been my first hint that all was not well. Honestly, you should probably have some sort of clue before the girl gets in the car.

I replied, "I don't care as long as we eat. I'm starving."
He said Okay, and that we would meet up with some other couples to go out to eat, and did I have any preferences.

I told him "Anything but hot dogs" and preceded to tell him about my dreadful battle with the hot dog slime-generating machine of doom.

We drove to the dorms at BYU. This was my first "Really?" moment of the night, but I let it slide since we were supposedly meeting up with more couples for some sort of group date thing.

We ended up hanging out there for over 3 hours with various roommates and people. Playing basketball. Well he played basketball. He couldn't understand why I didn't play even though I repeatedly mentioned the fact that I hate playing basketball.

Apparently he didn't use such instensive critical anaylsis skills for his course work there.

I also couldn't get him to ditch his "friends" to do something else because this guy was a total pansy.

Perhaps the BYU dorm RAs meet out some terrible and horrific punishment for anyone who dares to leave a group date. Anyway, the people were waiting for finally showed up, told everyone they were dumb for waiting so long (Thank You!!) and we all drove down to someone's party. Where there was no food. So we went to yet another place with a "party" where there was an even bigger lack of anything edible.

I'm unfamiliar with BYU standards on partying, but I would assume it's okay to feed people who come to your house.

By now I was beyond angry. I spend most of time hanging out and bashing my date with another girl who was duped into this nightmare. That was the high point of my evening. HDG finally managed to find us and said that someone was going to buy some hot dogs so that we would have something to eat.

I managed to resist the urge to punch his smug face.

And then... AND THEN!! He asked me to pitch in 5 bucks for the hot dogs.

Words cannot describe my deep and abiding hatred for this loser. I chewed him out and sent him off to find food. He came back with hot dogs.

Did I eat one? Absolutely not. It was a matter of principle now. Although that didn't stop him from eating several right in front of me.

Fortunately by this time I had discovered that he was of a sensitive and delicate nature. So I had concocted a revenge scheme of telling every nasty, violent, gory story I knew. If I got him to puke, I'd win.

You know, more dates need detailed analysis of the symptoms of the bubonic plague. It builds character.

I also remember belittling his hobbies, studies, hopes, dreams and whatever else the fool was naive enough to tell me, with points scored for every person I could get to laugh at his expense.

This was my last blind date. There will not be another. I don't know if this is related, but I didn't date another church guy for 9 years.

UPDATE: I tell a lie. I was repressing another painful night in 2001 with yet another BYU Cheap-O. Honestly, where did we get this idea that if you take a girl someplace nice (and I'm not talking Ten Penh here, I'm talking freaking Chili's) than it's shallow and worldly, but if you drag her through some ghetto hell-hole it's charming and creative?

I blame that stupid Jack Wheylan book.

I guess the moral is: I'm a pretty low-key girl, but if you're a young, working professional and you take me to McDonald's and then the local sticky-shoe for our first date, I will totally make you pony up for popcorn, you cheap bastard.