There are exactly two kinds of holidays: bad ones and Halloween. Today is not Halloween. Today is Thanksgiving, and it’s the worst one.
Almost every holiday has something to it that I can find a silver lining in, but not Thanksgiving. This is the one I really wish I could pretend did not exist. It really shakes me to my core on more levels than I can handle.
Here’s a small sampling of the reasons why I hate this stupid day:
I think we can all admit that 2014 has been an especially horrific year. One look at any news site makes me want to vomit. America’s hometown is riddled with a heroin epidemic. They announced that there could be as many three more Fast & Furious movies AFTER the next one, and Bill Cosby is apparently a serial rapist. (These things are obviously not meant to be weighted against one another, they are all just indisputably bad.)
But it is no one person that is truly awful. It is groups of people that make the world a horrible place to be. Even among these groups there are heroes, people who are not annoying to be around or ruining the whole world. Regardless, here are my five WORST types of people from this year.
It was at a very young age that someone made the decision to put an NES controller into my hands. At my whim, Super Mario would run, jump, and shoot fireballs. From that point on, video games became my life and it was amazing. I grew up rescuing princesses, slaying dragons, and flying spaceships. I have a massive collection of games and consoles. I even have a guild tattoo on my shoulder. However- these days, a wave of shame would wash over me if I were to pick up a controller.
One thing to never do, for the love of God, is to accuse me of being a gamer. I would be forced to lash out, reacting as though you had just uttered a smear of the most hateful intensity one could imagine. I would scream “you take that back!” as I lunged at you. Hopefully a friend would intervene and help me to collect my calm. Why is that?
It’s that time of year again, kids. It’s May Fourth. It’s the day that all of us Star Wars fans band together and remind the world just how very much worse we are than fans of anything else. Usually I try to stay away from the whole May the Fourth thing, because even though I love Star Wars deep down in my heart, there’s only certain level of nerdiness that I can handle before I have to walk away. Also, I think we can all agree that May the Fourth is a holiday that the greeting card companies made up so they can sell off all the leftover Darth Maul valentine’s day cards- a task that becomes increasingly more monumental as each year the cross section of Star Wars fans who grew up thinking The Phantom Menace was cool and the demographic buying valentine’s day cards to hand out to their classmates grows smaller and smaller. But this year, May the Fourth is surrounded by controversy. Continue reading →
Good Morning, everybody! I have an announcement for you: 2013 IS DEAD! I know we’re all still nursing New Year’s Eve hangovers but I think we can all go for another round to celebrate its demise. On second thought, maybe 2013 just got a bad rap for not being 2012. 2012 was kind of an overachiever and it was going to be naturally tough to live in the shadow of what a spectacular year that was. But screw it, I’m having champagne again: any reason is a good reason.
Finally back in my life after two days
So what’s your new year’s resolution? Wait, I don’t care. Well, I’m going to share mine so I guess share yours. Throw it in the comments section and the coolest one wins an as of yet undetermined prize. (Prize will not be good.) Continue reading →
Food Network Star is a very special show, as far as I am concerned. I got hooked during the 2012 season, and it was something that punctuated what I will probably always consider to be the most amazing and magical Summer of my life.
Every Sunday I look forward excitedly to sitting down on the couch with Zelda and any of the other Kittensharks who happen to be around, turning on Food Network, and then throwing out all kinds of reactionary tweets for one intense hour. The tweeting about it is crucial to the experience. I’ve annoyed my real life friends (sucks to be you, @e_of_pi!), Made some new friends (shout out especially to @Rachaven, who is awesome), and gotten myself blocked by Giada (a Kittenshark rite of passage).
Today I was spending some time thinking about the dystopian society in which retired cereal mascots must live under the tyrannical rule of Colonel Sanders, Dave Thomas, or Fred the Donut Baker depending on the sugar content of the cereal that had forsaken them, as usual. You’re probably thinking it would be pretty cool if I laid all the details of what happened in the sad afterlives of the Cookie Crook or Wendell the Baker, but that’s another article. Actually, it might not even be an article so much as it is a mural I need to have commissioned. It’s a very serious undertaking for me considering the only biopic of Wendell the Baker, titled The Wendell Baker story, is grossly inaccurate and doesn’t mention Cinnamon Toast Crunch even once. Perhaps there was some kind of licensing issue with General Mills?
This gentle baker got away with murdering his team after a particularly soggy batch of CTC.
Anyway, that got me thinking about other dystopian societies, which in turn got me thinking about all the required reading I had to do throughout my education. (Required reading is wrought with images of worlds that are only slightly less depressing than being an adult.) All those hundreds of hours spent reading books when I could have been playing Nintendo. What was I supposed to have gotten out of that? A more informed world view? I don’t have that. Should it have made me a better person? It didn’t. Could I even remember what some of these stories were about? I don’t know, probably. I’m going to try to recount some for you.
Hello folks. I’m here to comment on a facebook status that I read today. I’m not going to name the person who posted it. It’s not someone I’m going to just go and hang out with I don’t think, nor do I ever think they will see this article. If they were to see it, I would hope that they would come away from it feeling educated and enlightened.
The status in question, nearly an hour after I’ve seen it, has 11 likes and no comments. I had briefly considered defriending the person who made it, but I realized that since I am not friends with any of these likers, I cannot defriend those people. I want to, but I simply can’t unless I sent friend requests to all of them, then suddenly and dramatically defriend all of them. So I remain friends with the person who made this status, and I’m quietly thinking of a way that I can inflict some kind of harm on the 11 likers.
A magical time of the year is setting upon the land. No, of course I’m not speaking of the winter holiday season. A decade in retail ruined Christmas for me forever. I’m talking about something much more wonderful. I’m talking of course about Next Iron Chef: Redemption.
Some people see cooking shows like this.
I never thought I would be a Food Network enthusiast. I never got that hunger-porn feeling a lot of people get when they watch cooking shows. I don’t even really like food that much. If I’m alone I often forget to eat. I suppose that makes me a poseur. It’s a shame I have to learn to live with.
It was last year that Zelda started introducing me to Food related television. She started me off easy with Good Eats. There were costumes and puppets that would entertain me if the food didn’t. Then it was Chopped. I was hooked pretty much instantly. The judges were awesome to watch. The competitors were always hilarious, whether or not it was intentional. Continue reading →
Recently, I have been waking up from a recurring nightmare. It harkens back to the dark days of my childhood. Specifically it’s this haunting image of the fifth grade. The fifth grade was already a particularly dark time for me. My teacher was an elderly obese bitch named Mrs. West who wore an eyepatch. I’m not kidding. It almost ruined pirates for me a little. One time she made me clean up another student’s blood off a chair because of a blind accusation from a shit-head in my class named Ryan. I don’t remember his last name but if I did I would probably link to his loser facebook profile right here and you could see what kind of an idiot he is.
Anyway, this is about one particular traumatic event. What is waking me up with cold sweats and the the sensation that my entire decision making process has been sullied comes down to math class. You know, 5th grade math where you learn the same shit you learned in 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grade again? That math class. One day in that class everything began south. I will forever bear the burden of learning what it means to be confused and unconfident that day.