The Lost Boy

I'd like to draw your attention at this time to a news item from last Friday that may have escaped your attention. Yes, dear reader(s), I am referring to the tragic and untimely death of 1980s child star Corey Haim. I know you were wondering why I didn't address this immediately on Friday, and I'll be honest with you, I was so engrossed in being schooled in the ways of unbreaking up, that I totally forgot. I know, I know, totally unacceptable. I feel so ashamed. I'll try to make up for it though, by taking the time now to honor this fallen Hollywood icon in a manner befitting his memory.

A little background first: I was born in the '80s, which automatically makes them the best decade ever. (Things that took place the year I was born: Mets win the world series. Pixar Animation founded. Hot Tub Time Machine. I rest my case.) Although this put me in prime position to grow up in the '90s (best decade in which to grow up, natch), it also means I wasn't really around or cognizant of a lot of '80s phenomena at the time they happened. So naturally you might ask yourself, why do I care at all about Corey Haim? Well, dear reader(s) it has nothing to do with timing and everything to do with fate. Fate in the form of an authentic The Lost Boys movie poster, inexplicably wedged in my mom's wrapping paper drawer.

I have no idea how that poster got into my house; my parents are pretty cool and everything, but it's not like they own any other movie posters. This was, and remains, the only movie poster they have ever had in their house, and I have absolutely no idea what possessed them to buy it, out of all the movie posters in the world. I don't know if they even saw the movie. All I know is that when I found it circa age 12 in a trunk full of wrapping paper it was like finding ancient Egyptian buried treasure, and I was Rick O'Connell.

Now it being 1998 and all, this movie was long gone from theaters, but at the tender age of 12 even I could tell immediately from the stunning poster that it must've been a classic. I mean, look at those slick sunglasses and leather jacket on that guy on the left! Look at vintage Kiefer Sutherland rocking the spiky blond hair and dangly earring! (Who, incidentally, was totally ripped off by this guy. Come on, Jack Bauer, are you going to take that lying down??) The red-and-black color palate! The tagline! "Sleep all day. Party all night. Never grow old. Never die. It's fun to be a vampire." PURE MOLTEN GOLD MY FRIENDS. I wasted no time in appropriating this holy relic for my bedroom, where it occupied a place of prominence at the foot of my bed all throughout high school.

Now maybe it's not immediately clear to you why this movie is the shizzle. For those of you unacquainted with this fine film who are used to the current flavor of vampire mania, you first need to know that this movie is not bloodsuckers a la Stephenie "I can't spell my own name" Meyer. No sir. This movie is straight up badassery where gangs of bitchin' vampires live in caves, wear leather jackets and sunglasses, ride around on motorcycles, and throw killer beach parties. It features the best vampire hunting team of adolescent boys ever incorporated: The Frog Brothers. The Frog brothers dressed like mini-rambos, rocked Super Soakers filled with holy water, and said awesome things like "Listen, just so you know, if you try to stop us, or vamp out in any way, I'll stake you without even thinking twice about it!" Just so you would know how kickass and fo' realz they were. But most importantly, it starred a 16-year old Corey Haim as the innocent Sam Emerson, your typical teenager who just wants his MTV, thinks grown-ups are lame, and is trying to juggle fitting in his new town AND saving his family from the local vampire tribe. Who can't relate to that?

Given the focal point TLB played in my teenage years (more literally than figuratively) I was devastated to hear the news that Corey had gone to join the angelic vampire hunters in the sky, my hopes of one day reuniting the Frog Brothers in The Lost Boys 3: Don't Vamp Out lying in pieces, like so many pieces of vampire brains. (One of the valuable lessons I learned from TLB is that exploding the head is one of the only failsafe ways to kill a bloodsucker. Life lessons.) I quickly did some background searches and discovered that he hadn't really done much since the '80s, which also made me sad. How could the world have failed to recognize this great talent? They say great genius is never acknowledged in its lifetime, and ain't it the truth.

To pay tribute to our fallen comrade I was going to go see a commemorative screening of TLB at the Tribeca Grand on Sunday, but due to a combination of factors beyond my control--mostly due to a monsoon in my lagoon--I couldn't make it, so instead I'm just going to say goodbye the best way I know how: half-assed and on the internet.

RIP COREY

NEVER GROW OLD. NEVER DIE

Yes, I Want to Order the Advice Kit at the Special Price of Just $49!

Dear reader(s), today I have a question for you: how awesome is it when you're innocently looking for the answer to some important question on the interwebs and you stumble across a hidden treasure trove of nonsense? Answer: SO. AWESOME. I know I've said it before but I'm going to say it again and again and again (maybe some of you are hard of hearing, or something, lord knows I am): I have a sweet sweet burnin' love for google. I don't know how I got through each day before the google was invented; it was a dark time. When google fails me, it's like I've just been told that the tooth fairy doesn't exist all over again.

Side note: The tooth fairy doesn't exist, huh? FALSE. You know The Rock only speaks the truth! You should also know that I specifically picked the Spanish-language poster over the original English-language poster for the following three (completely legitimate) reasons: a) as we all know, foreign languages are inherently hilarious, b) every time I look at it I imagine the Rock saying 'NO IMPORTA!' in his 'serious voice,' and every single time I crack myself up. The key piece of information you need to know in order for this to be appropriately funny, is that 'no importa' means 'it doesn't matter,' which was The Rock's WWF catchphrase. In case, you know, you didn't already know that or something. Do I know maybe a little more about Mr. Dwayne Johnson than is strictly necessary? Prehaps. Am I appropriately ashamed? IN NO WAY SIR. And c) I love the way they chose to translate this movie poster. Somehow 'you can't handle the tooth' became 'magic needs more muscle' (I get it, the pun didn't work in Spanish, stop trying to steal my sunshine), but more bizarrely, the title of the movie, "Tooth Fairy," somehow became 'Break Teeth.' I'll admit that I don't know the idiomatic expression for tooth fairy in Spanish, I don't even know if they have a tooth fairy, but if they do and that is what s/he is called then good work, Spain, I am successfully creeped out. I think if my parents had told me when I was a child that a fairy was going to come into my room while I was sleeping to tear out my teeth I would not have gone to sleep until I went to college. Maybe things are different in Spain. Maybe it's considered lucky to have a mischievous sprite yank out parts of your body whilst you slumber. I honestly don't know, and I wish I had never been introduced to that possibility. Thanks a lot for that, Spain.

Back to our regularly scheduled program. I needed some quality advice on how to (nicely) tell someone you don't want to see them ever again via the classy medium of text message--because I am a grade-A classy lady thank you very much--so naturally I turned to my trusted bff google and typed in the words "how to let someone down easy." Such. a good. idea. After reading through some well-worded responses about relationships and feelings and blah blah I'm not listening what? my eyes were caught by the following headline "Breaking Up Advice For Men: How to Get Your Ex-Girlfriend Back Kit - Learn how to win back your ex girlfriend and become the man that women stay hopelessly attracted and attached to. Well worth the read!" Well now, don't mind if I DO. You know that it's gonna be good if they tell you how worthy it is right there in the caption, so you best believe I got my clicking finger in gear and I clicked right on that sucker. And here is what I learned:

How To Get Your Ex-Girlfriend Back
Real Help from the Breakup Guru^TM

Well I guess my lifelong goal of one day starting my own "How To break Up With Your Girlfriend" business is now dead. I was going to call myself the Breakup Guru^TM! Bitch went and trademarked away my hopes and dreams. I guess the market for Getting Your Ex-Girlfriend Back advice is so broad that a girl's gotta get some legal protection from all those fakers trying to steal her clients. Ah, the cutthroat world of online advice professionals.

Instantly receive the secret that has easily helped thousands of men (just like you) get their ex-girlfriends back!

Instant advice is my favorite flavor! Lay it on me BG^TM.

You're about to discover the secret to stopping your breakup with her and winning your girl back - so don't go anywhere, because this could be the most important secret you'll ever learn!

Alright I'm sitting down. My heart's all a flutter, I can hardly wait. I'm ready. Tell me the secret!!

Are You Ready To Undo Your Breakup and Win Your Girlfriend Back?

-Even if she has left you and she's seeing someone else.... 

-Even if she claims she doesn't love you anymore.... 

-Even if she is still living with you, but leaving.... 

-Even if you cheated on her.... 

-Even if you have no contact with her ....  

YES! YES! IN THE NAME OF STALKERS EVERYWHERE YES!!!

Tigress Luv

The Breakup Guru

Friday, March 12, 2010

Mohave County

Arizona, USA

HOLD. UP. WHO. IS. THAT. Is that the secret? I think I just fell a tweensy bit in love with this website. Damn girl, you are good.

Dear Broken Hearted Boyfriend,

Hello. My name is Tigress Luv, but I'm better known as the Breakup Guru. Odds are if you've been heartbroken before, or have done any searches online to help you with your relationship or breakup, you've ran into me or have read some of my articles.

Wait, wait. Your name is Tigress Luv, while you're known as the Breakup Guru? Doubtful. More likely: "Tigress"--while on a vision quest in the Mojave desert you met your spirit animal, a Tiger. "Luv"--you're a real womyn who doesn't submit to the conventions of a masculine-dominated language system.

The cherry on this identity crisis Sunday is the fact that you gave your adopted name it's own new name, just to make things extra crazy. Whatever the case, I can confidently say that while I have never ran into you on the internets before, I am so glad we've finally met. Please, tell me more about yourself.

Here's a little bit more about me...

I started learning about the grief experienced with losing a loved one when a man I was very much in love with died. Years later I went through another great loss when, while in another relationship, I went through a very traumatic relationship breakup myself.

Firstly, thank god you italicized that 'very' in the first sentence, because it allows me to truly understand the depth of your love for your dead boyfriend. Deep as the everlovin' sea. Secondly, I can see how it would be very traumatic to go through a bad breakup while in another relationship. I know I'm not a Guru or anything, but I think your breakup might have been caused by the fact that you were apparently in two relationships simultaneously. Besides, it was only very traumatic--it could've been very much worse. Just sayin.'

I wanted to understand what was behind the tragic grief I was experiencing. After rationalizing - and analyzing - and investigating - and delving inward, I began to understand and see breakups for what they really were. I knew breakups inside and out! I then took my expertise and was signed on as a Community Leader and Breakup Advisor on the relationship breakup boards at iVillage.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Rationalizing AND analyzing AND investigating AND (GASP) DELVING INWARD?? This sounds like a job for...Tigress Luv: romantic detective! We join our heroine as she uses the passive voice inappropriately to inflate her resume! I did some detective work of my own, TLuvs, and from the looks of things over at iVillage I'm pretty sure 'Community Leader' is the message board equivalent of 'hall monitor.' Not that there is anything wrong with that; I still love you.

Not soon after, I started my own breaking up grief site entitled 'Tigress Den', which later turned into the Lifted Hearts Network. The Lifted Hearts Network now has the largest private break up support forum on the web, with over 4000 members and 38 ebooks on relationships, relationship issues, relationship problems, relationship recovery, attraction, abuse, and self-help.

So...much later? And then laterer than that the humble Tigress Den metamorphasized into the beautiful butterfly that is liftedhearts.com? I visited this site only briefly, and was so overwhelmed with joy and hope that I had to leave posthaste. Proceed at your own risk. I have blogs to be writing, you know. I don't have time to read every Insider's Secret to Becoming a Man Magnet that rolls around.

If you are like 98% of the men who have lost the love of their life, their girlfriend, you've probably suffered from extreme depression, or even worse, MAJOR REMORSE! You've most likely have tried everything in your power to win your exgirlfriend back. Everything but the right thing - or you wouldn't be reading this page right now!

OH SNAP. Lady Tigress just told is like it is! In case you're unclear on which way that is, let me break it down for you:

-For 2% of men, the love of their life is NOT their girlfriend. Beloved pet? Piece of furniture? Light beer? Likely.

-If you think extreme depression is bad, then you've never suffered at the hands of MAJOR REMORSE. Consider yourself lucky. He can shoot laser beams out of his eyes.

Let's skip ahead a little bit. Now I know what you're thinking, "Wait! We can't skip! WHAT IF I MISS THE SECRET???" Don't worry. All you're missing is Madame Le Tigre Amour explaining a little more about how she is the shiznit and all those other bitches out there be fronting. Duh, like I didn't know that already! Give me some credit.

Getting back to me. Keeping up with my research I had came to a real understanding of the pain of breakups, how to cure that pain, and how to approach an ex girlfriend without causing further damage in the relationship. I actually wrote my first book on the subject way back decades ago.

Of course you did, Tigress. Of course you did. And I would expect nothing less.

I mean W-A-A-A-Y back :) (Gawd, does that make me seem 'old'? LOL)

Uh...well I wasn't really thinking about it before but I guess I think so now. Since you said printed it in big letters on your webpage that anyone with a computer an an internet connection can access. So...yeah. Way to go with that. Maybe a little oversharing there. LOL?

Having an uncanny ability to decipher human nature I soon became an expert on people and what makes them behave in certain ways both in and out of relationships.....

I think we can all agree that you, ma'am, are indeed 'uncanny'.

This became a new report on how to 'stop' the ending of a broken relationship and 'reverse' a breakup.

Since then I have written on men with commitment phobia (and the women who love them!), abuse, attraction, narcissistic boyfriends, and infidelity. Living through it all myself has helped me to get even more valuable lessons and insights.

"If God didn't want me to help others heal, then He sure wasted a lot of life's lessons on me!"

Ha ha! Wait...that's...that's just...sad. For you.

Most Men Make Common - Yet Major -Mistakes When Trying to STOP Their Breakup, or Win Their Ex-Girlfriend Back - Simply Because They Don't Know the Secret Ingredients Necessary to Winning Her Back....

Are you going to tell us what the 'secret ingredients are? Because honestly LOLCatress, I'm peeing my pants here waiting for the big reveal.

There are two key ingredients needed to make an exgirlfriend come back to you and I'm going to reveal them to you right now...

THANK YOU

Secret #1 - You Need To Know How to 'Let Her' Return to YOU

It's all about stopping her need to flee. I'm not here to insult anyone, but I will be honest with you; most men chase their ex girlfriends farther away by doing very instinctual things! They may think they are doing the right things, but in reality they are doing all the wrong things.

Secret #2 - Becoming the Type of Person That Converts Your Exgirlfriend's Emotional Conflict Into Emotional Attachment!

Your actions and reactions can very well be working against you, and not in your favor. You may be unknowingly making your exgirlfriend - or soon-to-be ex - feel like she has made the right decision in leaving you. Stop wasting your time doing all the wrong things and get working on doing the right things!!!

Wait wait wait wait wait. THOSE ARE THE SAME SECRET. Just because you are an expert in delving doesn't mean you can just rearrange the order of some words, slap a #2 on 'em, and call it a new rule! This isn't how a lady behaves. I don't mind telling you that I don't like this side of you, Luvs, I don't like it at all.

If you don't know the right way to get your girlfriend back, you may as well plan on moving on with your life right now because the wrong way will NEVER work on women...

But how can I know the right way if YOU WON'T TELL ME? I'm starting to understand why god gave you all those 'life lessons.'

It's funny how many men jump into methods to try and win their exgirlfriend back all the time not knowing the basic fundamental rules to winning an exgirlfriend back and stopping a breakup. There is no such thing as a 'get her back quick' program on the internet. It takes the right combination of methods and the proper 'know how' to make your ex-girlfriend come back to you.

WHAT?!?! No such thing? I'm pretty sure that's EXACTLY what you've been promising me this whole time! I feel so used, so disappointed...so lied to. I'm not sure we can be together anymore. I just...I just can't do it, Tigress. I've thought about this a lot, and I think...I think we need to break up. I know, I didn't want it to end like this either, It's just that I don't feel the same way about you anymore.

Women do not just stop 'being in love'...

....nor do they 'fall out of love' as if they were changing channels on the television. Loving emotions cannot be turned off like that. Love is a deep, lasting emotion that can withstand betrayal, hurt, anger, fear, and confusion.. if you know the right things to do!

Wow. You really came out in front of that one. Unfortunately at this point I'm 98% sure you're nuttier than Harlan Pepper, so I'm going to have to leave it there. We had some good times together, but this just isn't meant to be. But don't worry! I know this guy, and I have a feeling that you two would totally hit it off. I bet you have a lot in common. His name is David, he has a website too, and get this--he's a doctor!

No need to thank me.

Attack of the Gingers

Let me spin you a tale of sadness and woe (OK, really it's just mild confusion, but that doesn't sound as good...). Harester and I were passing an enjoyable evening watching a Millionaire Matchmaker marathon on Bravo (what better way to spend one's time?), and in the "Next Time On..." teaser clip there was a scene where Patti calls some skank an "ugly firecrotch bitch." Obviously I was then compelled to watch until I could find out WHY someone would merit being called a UFB (clearly I will be adapting this expression for everyday use), and as the episode progressed I found myself getting more and more confused. Now let it be said that as it turned out, this girl totally deserved to be torn a new a-hole, but what was confusing me was why Patti felt that "all redheads are crazy and will never get married" (harsh, but not unusual for psycho-Pat - see what I did there?). Don't get me wrong, I'm all for reality TV dumb-floozy-bashing at any time of the day or night, but the whole "you'vegotredhairthereforeIhateyou" mentality seemed over the top. What's with all the anti-ginger anger?? (HEY, you can't spell ANti-ginGER without anger! That is just creep-ay.)

I have to admit, I watched the South Park episode "Ginger Kids" and I laughed a lot, and even thought I understood it. I mean, the little ginger cut-out-paper kids were scary and sad and pathetic, and within that context, "Kick a Ginger Day" made perfect sense. But now that I can actually think about it without being hypnotized by the awesomeness that is Butters, I realize I still don't really understand. I mean, sure there are a lot of creepy red-haired people out there - Carrot Top scares the living bejeezus out of me (to be precise: I'm talking about current Carrot Top here; old Carrot Top was mostly just a crazy). And the pre-Bourne-ified Run Lola Run version of Franka Potente looks more Eurotrashy than I would have believed possible. BUT. But but but. Think of Ron Weasley (apparently his name is Rupert something-or-other but who cares?)! I'm pretty sure Harester would jump that guy's bones anytime of the day or night due to a powerful potion (see what I did THERE?) comprised of equal parts Harry Potter geekery and pure unbridled Britishboylust. Another example, and this is my ace-in-the-hole, THE LITTLE MERMAID HAD RED HAIR. That's right, the queen of my childhood, arguably one of the hottest Disney princesses (although not the best in terms of female role-modelery), was both awesome and red-haired. There's a really long list of hot ladies with red hair, actually - Jessica Rabbit, for one! Hot ginger men are harder to find, but they've gotta be out there somewhere!

[Side note: a Google search for "hot ginger men" yielded a baffling variety of scary porn-esque photos, plus pictures of Ron Weasley and Seth Meyers (really?). ALSO COOKIES. And come on, I mean, gingerbread cookies are the best thing ever! I'll take a gingerman over some boring old blondie any day.]

So what's the deal? I just don't see that this whole ginger thing is a generalizable-enough phenomenon to justify widespread discrimination, however hilarious it might be. Apparently in Britain gingerism is like a serious problem (much thanks to the Hare for providing me some insights into Englandy thought processes). People (adults, not just impressionable TV-hypnotized children) actually get attacked for being ginger. This fear is supposed to stem from the fact that redheads are believed in folklore to be the devil's children and have red hair because they were conceived during their mother's menstruation. OK, Britain, here are my concerns: A) GROSSY MCGROSSERSON. B) You are stupid. This is stupid. High school biology will tell you that ALL of the things in that sentence are just wr-wr-wr-wrong. C) If you want to have your stupid prejudices (which probably actually stem from anti-Irish sentiment, but who knows at this point) that's fine, but when it hops on over the pond and starts taking the ol' US of A hostage, you all gots some 'splaining to do. I mean, just look at this poor loser.

OK, that kid is kind of disproving his own point there - I mean, he's clearly soulless. Let's review in depth, shall we?

"Lately I've been being called a ginger. A fat ginger by everybody at school. And it really hurts my feelings. I act like it doesn't, but it does really bad...GINGERS DO HAVE SOULS (angry threatening pointing at camera)."

Mockery break: kid, I hate to break it to you, but you are the fattest and gingeriest fat ginger I could possibly imagine. Like if you look up "fat ginger" in the dictionary it will have a picture of you, possibly cross-referenced with "big loser baby." Maybe if you held the camera a little farther from your big pancake face it would be less obvious, but I understand why you didn't want to enlist anyone you know to record this embarrassing display of "emotion." I put emotion in quotes because he alternates between "I'm a wounded innocent puppy" and "I'm psychologically unstable and will probably murder you in your sleep." I think it's pretty clear that this kid has no soul. This is probably in no way related to him being a ginger, but he's certainly not helping his people's cause. OK, now back to the show.

"(continue with threatening demeanor) I go to church, I'm a Christian. You don't know me! You're not God! Whboboble (fake shivery sound)! WHBOBOBLLLEEE (louder, now sounding more like a horse)! You're not God."

Whoo boy, where to start with this segment. Who is he talking to? The creators of South Park? I'm pretty sure they don't care what you think, buddy, and I'm almost positive that they are God anyway. And what's with the horse/shivery noises? Are you morphing into some kind of animal? I'm pretty sure animals don't have souls, so yet again - kinda stepping on your own toes there.

"So if you. Think. I don't have a soul, tell me! Otherwise, fuck you! Bitches, you uh *tongue click* for real! I'm getting sick and tired of everyone making fun of redhaired people. (high squeaky voice) Hahahaha he's a ginger! Hahaha he's a ginger! Hahaha! (normal voice) Really, that's funny. (continued weak fake laughter)"

OK, they definitely told you that they think you don't have a soul. Isn't that why you made this video? And I think you're saying "fuck you" because they said that, not "otherwise." And "you *tongue click* for real" isn't a sentence. It isn't even a fragment. Clearly you meant to be insulting or threatening or possibly both, but all I'm seeing is passing stroke. Maybe ease up on the artery clogging snacks and your brain will get better blood supply; just a suggestion of course. Also, nice voice-work. Are the "friends" who are making fun of you 6 year old girls? Because you shouldn't yell at them like that or they'll probably cry.

"I'm red haired, OK? I've got red hair, and proud of it! I consider ginger a very slanderous word. Demeaning word. And I'm tired of it. (long pause) Tired of it. You know? Everybody else gets respect, you know? Black people, white people, Mexicans, everyone! Gingers! Why do gingers have to be put down so much, what's so different about them, besides their hair?"

For starters, you clearly don't know what slanderous means. But that's not your fault - it's tough for a soulless loser to understand. I also really enjoy how you are equating racism with a joke from a South Park episode. No one hates on Mexicans or black people anymore, but everyone (i.e. this kid's "friends") hates on gingers. This seems like an accurate representation of reality. "What's so different about them, besides their hair?" THAT'S IT. That's what ginger means. I thought that was clear.

This goes on for a lot longer, and I'm already kind of tired of it. But wow, that was some good material, huh? I'm not even sure exactly where I was going with it originally. I guess my conclusion on all this rambling is: there's a lot of crazy people out there, and you can make fun of them for a lot of things, so why make up fake things like gingerism as an excuse for more mockery? Although I do have to admit, gingerism yields plenty of hilarious insults. Like firecrotch or, my personal favorite, "ginger balls." Any situation where I can call someone ginger balls is a good one in my book; but I would prefer to be non-discriminatory and call everyone, be they ginger or no, the same hilarious names. Let's heal the world just a little bit, and try to destroy people's self-esteem for legitimate reasons.

Peace out, UFBs!

I Can't Remember What We Were Talking About

I tried to write a post today about how crazy tired I am, but I am so tired that it keeps degenerating into random nonesuch. Since I can't seem to rub two thoughts together, here is a hilarious video to tide you over until tomorrow:

No More Ms. Nice Rabbit

New York is trying to kill me. This is not a drill dear reader(s), this time it's for serious. I really am not sure what's going on here. I was born and raised in NYC, and usually I can take whatever she can dish out. One of the points of pride of being a native New Yorker is not getting your panties all in a wad (or knickers in a twist, if you're across the pond) over the hustlings and bustlings that make this place move and shake. It's part of what makes New York, New York (see what I did there?) and don't hold with whiny tourists and out-of-towners when they complain that it's just too busy, loud, dirty, rude, and unfriendly here. Be quiet, I say, and get out of my face.

HOWEVER all of a sudden New York has decided to put a fatwah out on me and I don't know what to do! On the one hand I feel like I should just sit down and take it--I can't have anyone thinking that I'm not man enough to be bodyslammed like the best of 'em--but on the other hand I feel like I need to be all hold up! That aint right. Because here in NYC if someone gets all up ons you gotta make sure they step off before things get ugly. In fact, this might be a test of my true New Yorkiness. On that note, I am hereby declaring war on any and all of the following scourges of the city:

Sudden Stationary Syndrome

It's exactly like one of those infection-bourne zombie movies except instead of causing people to go on crazy murderous rampages the infection causes innocent people to suddenly stop moving and stand perfectly still exactly in front of where I'm walking. It's like these people are trying to clothesline me with their entire body. IT DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY. You'd think that this would be way more of a danger to them than to me, but apparently a side-effect of SSS is petrified skin, so that when people bump into you they get the effect of running into a brick wall at top speed and you get the effect of Mount Everest being shot at with a nerf gun.

Someone needs to get some scientists together and come up with a cure for this one right quick because it spreads like wildfire. When I was living in Detroit I figured SSS was just another localized, ridunkulous problem in a city of ridunkulous problems, but now that it's spread to the financial capital of the Unites States, I think we need to devote some real tax dollars to curing this thing. If it can migrate all the way from Abandonsville, MI to the Big Apple, it can get ANYWHERE. CDC, get crackin'.

The Ministry of Silly Walks

When Monty Python does it? Hillarious. When average joe speedwalker does it? Not. so. much. This is basically the exact opposite of Sudden Stationary Syndrome. Meaning that instead of becoming completely immobile, you suddenly lose control of all your limbs and begin walking in the least logical way possible. Where a normal person might choose to walk across the street in a straight line, you instead opt to walk sideways through the intersection, turn around, walk halfway back to the curb, and then sprint for the opposite side while waving your arms and legs like a demented windmill. You then become IMPOSSIBLE to avoid and inevitably hit at least three people with your spastic limbs, without bothering to apologize.

Look, gumby. Unless you have a most extreme case of Parkinson's (in which case I am extremely sorry and you can disregard this post and my accompanying snark) there is no excuse for breaking into spontaneous interpretive capoeira in the middle of the street. I don't care how lost you are or how much of a rush you are in--KEEP YOUR ARMS AND LEGS INSIDE THE CABIN AT ALL TIMES. And if you *do* happen to kick everyone around you in the shins and slap us all in the face simultaneously, at least have the decency to apologize. Because one day you're going to bitchslap someone who doesn't take to it kindly, and she's going to open up a whole can of crazy on you. Fair. Warning.

Hick Herd

So you got the small town blues and decided to hop the nearest greyhound marked 'Bright Lights, Big City.' Good for you. Welcome. As (un)official ambassador of New York let me be the first to say that we appreciate your enthusiasm and your tax dollars (not necessarily in that order.) Before you embark on your big boy adventure though, here are a few simple rules to harmonious city living:

1. Put your fanny pack away. In the first place a fanny pack is basically a sign that says 'I'm a tourist, and here's where I keep all my valuables.' No native New Yorker would be caught dead wearing a fanny pack in public. This is why when tourists complain about how dangerous the city is, and how people are always getting mugged, we can't take you seriously. Because when you inevitably do get robbed, and you show up at the NYPD and they sit you down and ask you 'sir, what did they take', and you answer 'my fanny pack, it had all my-' they will cut you off, say good day to you, and toss you out on your corn-fed rearparts. Case closed, mystery SOLVED.

In the second place, and more pertinent to this discussion, what you might (misguidedly) see as a trendy, convenient place to store your wallet, camera, map, phone, laptop, energy bars, red bulls, and pet hamster, I see as an incredibly pointy growth just waiting to jab me in the ribs as you muscle your way through herald square. You're already creating enough of a roadblock walking down the street arm-in-arm as if Times Square is the friggin' yellow brick road, you don't need to supplement by hanging extra hazards off of your person. God gave you pockets--use 'em.

2. There is a very real limit to the amount of people and luggage that can fit on a single subway car. I know your greatest fear is to get separated from the group, wind up in Greenwich village, be bamboozled by white slavers, and sent to live a life of indentured servitude in the bowels of Queens, but the reality is that YOU ARE NOT ALL GOING TO FIT INTO THIS TRAIN. No matter how hard you push. No matter how much your group leader yells 'Push in! Push in! Everybody get in this car! Don't lose your buddy!' This is not a vehicle designed for the transportation of clowns. The 1/9 does not have a mystical vortex inside where all 50 of you and your rolling suitcases can comfortably fit. Instead of trying to induce a slow death by bodycrush, I propose the following: before you all get on the subway decide where you are going. Then you can all get on ANY subway car because THE WHOLE TRAIN IS GOING TO THE SAME PLACE. This isn't an unfathomable system. We're not going by mine cart to your underground vault. All the cars connected to this train are going to end up at the same station, and if you all get off at the same place you will not get lost. IT'S LIKE MAGIC! I know it's a lot to remember a single stop, but I bet if you put your hive mind to it, you can do it.

I want to give a special shout out to the group of New Jersey teenagers on my evening commute last week who were on some kind of school trip AT 5:45 in the evening. Upon entering the car the group leader, a plucky little Justin Beiber doppelganger, yelled out 'OKAY GUYS YOU GOTTA BE LIKE LINEBACKERS! PUSH! PUSH! PUSH! GET THROUGH' at the top of his cracking voice while his friends thundered like stampeding bison onto my car. I was literally crushed against some poor little old Asian woman for an excruciating 30 blocks until their stop, at which point JB yelled 'OKAY PUSH OUT! PUSH OUT! SHOVE THOSE PEOPLE! BREAK THROUGH THAT LINE!' and they spilled out like the Blob descending on the city. I got out alive, but I'm not sure if the old lady made it.

Do You Have A Minute To Care About The Environment?

So many reasons, where to start. I'm afraid I'll get off topic (who me?) if I get into the whole 'if you don't stop to talk to me then the terrorists win, you neo-nazi fascist' mentality of these noble street crusaders. I'll just say (for now) that trying to get past a bunch of Greenpeace activists is like tackling an obstacle course in basic training. They pick the most heavily trafficked stretch of street and then strategically position themselves along the entire length of it so you can't help but bump into one of them. And if you manage to avoid the aggressive clipboard/leaflet one-two punch, someone will inevitably trip you 'by accident.' Right. At first it's all 'oh I'm so sorry, are you okay' but it quickly becomes 'by the way have you heard about the starving children in Africa? I bet if you were starving you'd want someone to help you.' Because lord knows nothing helps starving children like pretentious twentysomethings trying to find their life purpose at 9 in the f*cking A.M. Look, I sympathize with the fact that you want to heal the world, seriously, I do. There's some f*cked up shit out there and sometimes it makes me want to just sit in a corner and weep. HOWEVER the way to fix things is not to turn my morning commute into a game of human bumper pool, I assure you.

Side note: it used to be just activists and hippydippy types who employed this scattershot strategy, but in college I noticed that corporate marketers have started using it too. They were way more saavy though, and actually fooled me a couple of times. First someone would tap me on the shoulder and say 'excuse me, could you help me out?' Being a grade-a sucker I'd say yes, and from there become inextricably tangled in their sticky web of deceit. Inevitably they'd follow this innocent come-on up with a backhanded compliment blatant criticism of my appearance like 'you look like the kind of girl who might appreciate a free waxing' or 'have you thought about doing something about your hair?' Clearly this was meant to entice me, but my mama always taught me never to buy something from someone who insults you to your face, so at that point I'd just stammer incoherently until I said something vaguely pressing like 'um..yeah...I have an appointment at the clinic...um now' and awkwardly walk/run away. Ah, college.

All of the above, you are on notice. Up until now I've tolerated your jostling and rudeness and tended my bruises and scrapes in silence but NO MORE! Get your acts together and step off, or else I'ma have to get REAL and BRING IT ON. [EDIT: This would also be an ideal time for us to form our street-dancing gang and STEP UP 2 THE STREETS. Or we could STOMP THE YARD or even bring some YOU GOT SERVED to some well-deserving assfaces. Let's make my dream reality!]

PEACE. OUT.

Equal Opportunity Offenders - A Linguistic Digression

I realize that my occasional W.A.G. posts may upset people who feel I am not giving fair consideration to other languages that might be considered funny and/or ridiculous. This post, in giving a broad overview of all languages I find amusing (English is excluded from this - too close to home, plus it's kind of obvious how ridiculous English is), should address these concerns.

FRENCH

This is pretty self-explanatory. While the words may not be as long as German, the pronunciation can be almost as unfathomable. As a good friend of mine once said, "I just look at a word and say it in the least logical way it could be pronounced. And that's how I speak French." I think Brett (Britt) and Jemaine do a pretty good job of emphasizing all that is delectably mockable about the French language (and also cover key phrases from Chapters 1-4 of "Bienvenue!," my high school textbook - it's both funny and educational!). In general, I would say French is probably one of the most made-fun-of languages on the planet. For example, this (3:20-3:28) is one of my favorite TV moments of all time - I could only find it in German online, but you get the idea. All kidding aside, I love French. Mostly because I can speak it somewhat passably, and I also love Paris, crepes, patisseries, and Amelie. But most important: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, my all-time favorite of favorites, speaks it fluently! (OK, he looks kinda shiteous in that clip, but come on, what a dreamboat!!! He sings, he dances, he acts, he speaks French, and I can't believe he's not in my closet hiding from my boyfriend right now. I know the March Hare's mom wants her to marry him, but I totally have dibs.)

HUNGARIAN

What's funny about Hungarian? Everything. I've been to Budapest many times in my life, and even lived there for 6 weeks, so I sort of know what I'm talking about. To have a childhood favorite vastly improved (or ruined forever) check this out; you'll get a general idea of how much Hungarian sounds like a four year old girl's made-up language. (That video also demonstrates a very typical Hungarian practice of dubbing EVERYTHING. Seriously, is everyone too lazy to read? George Clooney isn't the same when his voice sounds like a prepubescent teenager's.) Hungarian is a very singsong-y, round vowel-y language, filled with a bunch of syllables that all sound like "shmeg," and to this day I have no idea how to pronounce anything. Perhaps someday if I get a chance to learn more about it, I can establish the W.A.H. segment. I feel this would have as much potential for comedy as German.

CHINESE

I don't actually think Chinese is that innately funny. Mostly I wanted to recount a story from Harester's and my high school days, when we took a class on the history of China and Japan. During the language section of the class, our teacher tried to explain how the different tones of Chinese work. The example given was: imagine a couple boys who find a house in the woods. One boy boosts the other up so he can look in the window, and asks what he sees. The conversation then goes as follows: "Dogs!" "Dogs?" "Dogs." "Dogs..." (That last one is supposed to have a tone of "disappointment" and thus trail down at the end). This was supposed to convey to us that any one word can carry different tones and because of that tone convey a different meaning. Good lesson, right? But now whenever I read the "Learn Chinese" phrase on the back of my fortune cookie fortune, this story is all I can think of and it confuses me. I just remember those two sad boys hoping to catch a glimpse of something other than a bunch of dogs in this mysterious house (what were they actually hoping to see? A flash of boob? Hard to say for sure, history has not recorded these important details), and I get all depressed and fail to learn how to say "grapefruit." Thanks, C&J, for one of the most memorable lessons in all of my learningtimes.

POLISH

I know little about Polish, besides the fact that Polish people are apparently allergic to vowels (also that they put ketchup on pizza. For God's sake WHY???). For example, here is how one says Happy Birthday: Wszystkiego Najlepszego! In the first word, there are a total of 11 letters and only 3.5 vowels. Impressive, no? I was also roundly rebuked by a Polish teammate for pointing out how totally insane this setup was, which only made me realize that Polish people are highly sensitive and we should only laugh at them in private. Hence, do not expect a W.A.P. to appear any time soon, I have no wish to be pelted with pierogies.

SWEDISH

Ikea. That is all.

DUTCH

My Dutch friend in high school was very vehement in impressing upon me that Dutch and German were in no way similar. This despite the fact that Deutsch and Dutch are basically the same word. Plus the infallible Wikipedia has informed me that not only are two languages are closely related, but that in Gulliver's Travels German was referred to as "High Dutch." I can understand resenting a language that is referred to as a higher and more sophisticated version of your own, but come on, Fraulein Hollandaise, let's just accept the facts. This friend also occasionally tried to teach me how to pronounce Dutch words, and I was forced to come to the conclusion that she was either trying to torture me or that Dutch people have learned how to simultaneously chew on their tongue and wiggle each tooth independently. For example, there was a painting in one of our classrooms called "The River Ij," which I naively attempted to pronounce "ai" (like eye). Unfortunately for the Dutch (and for my sanity), this turned out to be far from correct. The actual pronunciation seems to be something like "Aghhhjkjkjkaighellllahhh." Yes, that would be about 4-8 syllables for a two-letter word. Impressive, "nee"? In conclusion, Dutch ≈ German, no matter how much wood there is in your shoes.

I hope this demonstrates adequately that I am in no way attempting to be discriminatory in spending the majority of my time laughing at the German language. I think pretty much everyone other than myself is funny in some way, but don't worry - I'll get to each of you eventually. It may take a while, so just be patient!

Yours in mockery, Hattie.

I Am Very Busy And Important, Thank You

Ugh. Today is one of those days where I have just enough to do that I feel guilty about not doing it, but not enough to do that I feel any pressure to actually get started. It's like when you have twenty minutes before you're supposed to do something and you're like, psh I only need ten minutes to get ready so I'm going to devote some quality time to collecting my whimsical radar. (P.S. Did you know that the Water Dumple is actually a part of the Grub-Dog family? Did you know that the previous sentence is not in fact complete gibberish? Now you do. Once again, Google images = my heart of hearts deluxe.) Then it's an hour later and you're getting texts to the tune of 'grl were u b at?' while you try for the fourteenth time to get your analog computer out of the Forest Navel before sunset. Story. of. my. life.

Anyanyanyways, I don't have time for a full-fledged post today so I'm just going to give you a quick summary of:

The Five Best Text Messages The Mad Hatter Ever Sent Me

And by that I mean, 'Five Text Messages That I Haven't Yet Deleted From My Phone Because I Am A Lazy Whore.' I have a complex rating system, clearly. ONWARDS AND UPWARDS.

5. "Listening to mitch for first time in a while. I am freaking out everyone around me with my creepy laughing"

In case there's any confusion, the 'mitch' here refers to the immortal Mitch Hedberg, who we clearly knew so well that we just refer to him casually by his first name; we don't even bother to capitalize it, that's how deep we roll. The uninitiated reader of this message might assume a causal relationship between the two sentences in the text, i.e. that Hattie is laughing creepily because she is being amused by a hilarious comedian, but actually it's two totally separate and distinct pieces of information. Hattie is always laughing in a creepy manner and freaking people out in public places, and she usually sends me periodic updates. Weirdo.

4. "Would just like to say that it is not even 2 and I am druuuuuuuunk. I loce mimosaa"

Hattie and I have a system in place where the number of extra vowels in a text indicates the level of crunkitude at the time of transmission, and as you can see this message registered as an 8.0 on the MH scale. Clearly someone can't hold her mimosaas.

3. "Gossip girl is so scandalous today! Just like high school"

So now you know our dirty little secret: Gossip Girl is based on our lives. Hattie owns a hotel and snorts coke with hookers, while I live like a poor bohemian peasant in the slums of Brooklyn. Its a hard life, but we manage.

2. "Haha I am drink whooped"

I don't know if you've been drink whooped yourself, but I imagine that it looks something like this. Ever since receiving this text I've been trying to get 'drink whooped' to catch on. Example: "Dude I got so drink whooped last night, I don't remember a thing!" Spread the word!

1. "Hello my name is butterface Johnson

This is just the tip of the iceberg that is Butterface Johnson. Butterface Johnson happened after we met someone named 'Charisma,' which led us to wonder if her parents had named all their kids so presumptuously. This naturally led to a serious of highly hilarious and obscurely inside jokes featuring the adventures of Charisma Johnson and her less-well-endowed sister, Butterface. We imagined them going places together and having crazy adventures where Butterface was always getting the short end of the stick and losing out to her sister due to her unfortunate situation. It's a classic. And yes, we are accepting offers for the movie rights at this time.

Okles dokles folkles, that's all until next week; same bat time, same bat channel. Have a great weekend!