I went to see George Carlin last week. It was my first time having the opportunity to see Carlin and I had never been so excited.
Then I find out I'm in the fourth row seats. Now I'm crapping my pants in delight.
George Carlin steps out on the stage and I say "wow. this is a historic moment for me. My comedic hero is only feet away from me and this may be my last chance to ever see him perform."
I must take a picture and document this joyous occasion, but I didn't bring a camera, assuming they're not allowed! Alas! I have a cell phone camera to save the day!
Eh...there is he. George Carlin. He always had such a wonderful facial structure. I think this picture really brings it out, doesn't it?
The empty baskets of "peasant bread" made this picture so valuable to me that I didn't care that a price chopper employee stared me down while I smiled at the display.
But beyond the cuteness, my question is:
what the holy fuck is peasant bread?
It's defined by recipetips.com as:
A term that traditionally referred to a type of bread prepared by rural peasants and used as an everyday bread. The breads usually contained simple ingredients and were often made with whole-grains. The type of bread made depended on the types of grains that were readily available or were commonly grown in a particular region. Peasant breads were often shaped into rounds or rectangles and baked as hearth breads or in community ovens, since home ovens would not have been common. Today, the term still refers to rustic breads made with simple ingredients and although some loaves are still baked the old-fashioned way using open fireplaces or large brick ovens, most are baked in modern, conventional ovens. Peasant breads often feature a thick, crusty exterior and a hearty, flavorful crumb.
and it looks like this (you've seen it)
Okay, fine. I'm down with that. But "hearty"? "flavorful"? am I really supposed to believe that peasant food was either of those adjectives?! The most sophisticated way I could desrcibe what the peasants ate is "doo-doo." I'll take a loaf of Wonder bread over peasant scraps.
Call me fickle, but I wouldn't touch something that is named after a people who suffered the plague.
I kind of want to go back to price chopper and say "hey, I noticed you're out of peasant bread. Any chance that you still have some Proletariat Pound Cake in the back? that'd be marvelous..."
"Called nicknames like Sally-D, Magic Mint and Diviner's Sage, salvia is a hallucinogen that gives users an out-of-body sense of traveling through time and space or merging with inanimate objects. Unlike hallucinogens like LSD or PCP, however, salvia's effects last for a shorter time, generally up to an hour.
It is not the same as the ornamental garden plant known as Salvia."
Now I won't lie. I've never tried salvia and I doubt I ever will (especially after reading how AOL describes it. Far out, man.) , but I have more than enough friends who knew better than to smoke the plant growing in mom's little garden by the front porch.
C'mon AOL. Lighten up and try some of that Sally-D, if you please.
Thanks to Phoenix Wright, I now think of all of my personal funny situations where I'd like to yell:
For example, an old lady heard me fart. yes. women fart. more than you think. In fact, we're so good at it you'd never know. That was an off day for me. But I digress...
an old lady heard me fart. She stared at me as she passed by with that disgusted look. She's just jealous my digestive system is working properly. As she grimaced at me, I had a powerful urge to turn around, point wildly in her face, and yell:
It would have been beautiful.
Sometimes, I'll overhear a disgusting conversation between two teenage girls about their gritty sex lives. Like:
Brittany 1: I totally went down. Brittany 2: no way. Brittany 1: Swear to god. I was really nervous and I knew he hadn't showered for four days but it was cool... Brittany 2: No way! Brittany 1: you won't believe what he did to me... Toni:
*point finger* Nobody wants to hear about your filty boyfriend and your humilating stories, you beastly whore!
Ah, I could think of a million of situations where it would fit.
and if I could have the music playing while I did it. Oh my god. I would never want to end this life. I'd be an immortal walking this earth with the sole purpose of yelling:
- Do not ask why a feminist always looks so tired all the time. - Do not offer lipstick in a friendly gesture. - Do not ring a bell and shout, "laundry's done!" - Do not claim you are a caterer by profession. This may cause dilemma. - Do not giggle when a womyn claims the weather interfered with her driving. - Do not smile and say, "Aw! That's an adorable question!" - Do not bleach your hair and ask if it looks natural enough. - Do not promote oral sex as a relationship-saver. - Do not interupt a womyn speaker. That is her own job. - Do not suggest a "sammich" as a problem solving technique. - Do not ask if she made that shirt. - Do not talk about how cute your bra is today. - Do not ask why it's really necessary to own a dishwasher. - Do not claim Ovid knew where it at. - Do not say, "HERstory? I don't know...he did do all the work..." - Do not smile when a womyn misspells the word "chauvinistic." -Do not make a do not list when a womyn professer is merely a glance away from your notebook where you should be taking notes on literature.
I hate ads, but if it is a niecely pieced together work of art, I can give respect. I may EVEN give it some consideration. "Well, clearly you were written by an intelligent marketer. I am tempted to click you."
What really burns my ass is an advertisement that is thrown together in about forty five seconds, give or take forty seconds. I found a nice example today:
So we have a butterface chick lazing on the floor with her barefeet in the air. Obviously, she's just too busy to go to a real college because she wants to lay there and watch porn all day. Fine. I guess I can understand the relevance. I won't go crazy on this.
However, the grammar is just baffling. It's not "can't quit YOUR job," but "can't quit job?"
Want go college, job no quit? Need pretend smart, no leave Arbys? Maybe impress girl, make parents cry? Buy fake degree, still work Arbys? I could go on.
Every time I look back at it, I can just hear Dong from Sixteen Candles reciting it.
Maybe I should look for a job in this field. At least I can write full sentences.
My boyfriend is currently in San Antonio building a dark ride. Yeah, we've all done that once or twice in our lives. But anyhoo, I'm feeling a little down about not seeing him for a week now (and a week to come), so I decide to screw around online a bit and listen to some tunes to cheer me up.
So, I click open my music player and I experience the worst selection offered to a sad girl. to make this entry more interesting, let's say I'm actually conversing with said player.
Toni: Hey, MP. WHat's shakin?
MP: ah, not too much. I've got this itch that's been killin me, and my wife's a fuckin joke, lemme tell ya -
Toni: Ah, not today, man. No offense or nothing, but I need a good pick me up. Whatcha got for me on shuffle today?
MP: Oh, I got just the thing.
Toni: ....Woah, wait. what the fuck, dude?
MP: WHat?
Toni: Come on. I need to cheer up. You put on "Wave Goodbye?" What kind of shit is that? In fact, I told Steve I would avoid Chris Cornell music while he was gone. not cool, man.
MP: Shit, sorry. Okay, got somethin else for ya. Gaurunteed smiles with this one.
Toni: Oh dude. No.
MP: ...dude, are you crying?
Toni: NO! I just....man, what the fuck? Did you really just give me Portishead?
MP: ....you love Portishead.
Toni: yeah, but my boyfriend is thousands of miles away and you tell me Portishead's "Wandering Star" is going to cheer me up? This is bullshit. I'm turning you off now...
MP: No! Give me one more chance! I've got the sure thing to blow so much sunshine up your ass you'll be smiling on your way to a funeral.
Toni:....That's....that's terrible. But whatever, just play it.
Toni: *bust out sobbing* you fuckin asshole.
MP: WHAT?! Are you ever satisfied? Jesus...how does Steve put up with you?
Toni: Have you even listened to these songs?!
MP: ....no.
Toni:....what? your a fucking media player.
MP: ...I'm deaf.
Toni: .....oh. I'm sorry, dude.
MP: No, it's fine....*sigh* too late for apologies now...
Toni: No, dude. I didn't know. I just assumed that media players could..ya know, hear the shit they play.
MP: If you ever talked to me once in awhile and asked me about my problems. It's always about you. Blah blah blah, I miss Steve, play something nice. Blah blah blah, my period cramps hurt, play Nine Inch Nails. Blah blah, I'm in a freaky mood, play Tom Jones...
Toni: Oh, one time! One time I ask you to play "Sex Bomb!"
....okay, so maybe that arguement didn't happen. and the Tom Jones. and the whole conversation. But my media player did play those songs and it proved to be the most inconsiderate asshole in the world.
So, the moral of the story is I miss Steve and can't listen to sad music. I take a small bow.
