Author Archive
Once upon a time, in a faraway and distant land, I wrote a blog all about the changing face of Jimmy Page. I come to you today to talk about a startling development I became aware of last Monday: Ralph Macchio’s face.
Some of you are, perhaps, unaware of who Ralph Macchio even is. For that you should be ashamed, but who am I to judge, eh? Macchio was the shining star from the amazing 80’s movie franchise known as “The Karate Kid.” He somewhat faded from public view in the years following the movies’ success, but he has recently resurfaced on the soul-sucking show “Dancing with the Stars.” When I sat myself down to watch the season premiere yesterweek, I nearly pissed myself when it came time for Macchio’s dance. By no means was my near-soiling caused by amazing dance skills or horrendous missteps, instead I was amazed at how little his face has changed in the past 30 years!!! What I am about to show you may not make sense, but I assure you- it is real.
Age 15-ish Age 50, that’s right, 50!!!
Now, when I make the claim that his face has hardly changed in 30 years, it is not simply with the intent to give him a kudos. No, indeed, I have serious concerns that Ralph either sold his soul to the devil or is an alien. Equally viable, these are the only possible explanations I can possibly come to. I must admit, I am deeply disturbed. Almost more disturbed than I was with Jimmy Page’s transformation into an elderly Chinese man. Almost. (Click here to read said blog and laugh/weep your little hearts out.)
Gah! I just can’t stop staring at the side-by-side comparison! Did he have more wrinkles in the before pic? What the hell is going on?!
My little blog friend, how I have missed thee.
What has happened to BRBcoffee? It seems the “honeymoon phase” is over. I occasionally feel obligated to post something on here, but no topic ever really seems worthwhile. And by worthwhile, I mean me putting forth a mere 30 minutes of my time to write something slightly sarcastic, related to unicorns, or slightly depressing. That being said, today I would like to talk about happiness.
Happiness is a fickle thing. It is nothing without sadness. The heights of joy influence the depths of sorrow, and vice versa. This sounding a bit too Mr. Miyagi for you? Let me explain myself using various examples:
Let us say you are underfed on a regular basis. You therefore expect to be hungry often. Going a day without food doesn’t seem like a big deal to you, but getting extra food once a week is a joyous occasion! Now, let us say you overeat on a regular basis. You therefore never experience the pangs of hunger. Going a day without food seems like pure torture, but getting extra food once a week is hardly even noticed. See what I mean? Our past experiences of high and low, pleasure and pain, define our future likelihood of being happy or being sad.
Let me share a personal example. Whenever I go to my grandma’s, I am enveloped in a world of absolute love, respect, and all the things which make a person happy. The more time I spend there, the more I get used to living such a life. Then, I come home to a house where, let me say, that isn’t the case. Sure, many people would find my living situation to be a fine one, but when I have to come back from that high of being at my grandmother’s, it seems like a crap shoot. It’s somewhat painful to experience that transition- I assume it’s like coming down off a powerful drug high.
My question is as follows; is it better to experience the absolute highs of life and to constantly judge your happiness accordingly? Or is it better to have low expectations of what can be and draw happiness from lesser things?
According to this study by the University of Michigan, the top five happiest countries in the world are Nigeria, Mexico, Venezuela, El Salvador, and Puerto Rico. I therefore nullify my previous question and come to the conclusion that happiness = living near the equator and worshipping soccer.
Adios Amigos!
DON’T FUCKING DO IT!!!
You’ll end up creating a monster.
I’ve just had a public mother-daughter spat on my FB page that I wish had never happened. I initiated it, I will admit, but only out of sheer desperation to get her goddamned attention! We are having relationship issues, needless to say, but every time I try to talk to her seriously I am either laughed off or she takes offense and it becomes a yelling-match. Wait wait, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Shouldn’t I be the FB addict who doesn’t want to build a healthy relationship with my mother? Why is she being the child?
So yeah, to make a long story longer, it started as kind of a passive-aggressive comment about having to eat alone after making everyone’s breakfast. Well, she took offense. I decided, then and there, to completely humiliate myself by confronting her on my own FB page. I can’t say it was a mistake, because it served its purpose; I finally got her attention. When she finally confronted me in person, we had a big ol’ scream/sob session and, in the end, worked things out. Or so I thought. I actually just went to pee (it’s been about 15 minutes since the confrontation) and overheard her and her husband (aka Jack aka THE DEVIL!) talking smack about me. First thought: there goes the ol’ trust we just built. Then I thought: no no, I’m gonna talk to her and tell her how it made me feel; I’m just gonna be open. So I was and once again, we mended it somewhat (I have been paranoid about him talking shit about me for about 3 years now and he pretty much just cemented that distrust).
Moral of the story, folks: confrontation can actually be a good thing. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but it’s really the only way to deal with relationship problems.
At the end of the day, I feel tired, embarrassed, and overall paranoid. I hate Jack a little more than I used to, but oh well. Still, I feel like I at least took the risk of putting my true feelings out there for the world to either help me with or laugh at. What the world will do is yet to be known.
Please be nice, world. Please.
Sayonara!
As I sit here in the library pretending to be working on my two papers and presentation (yet not because I totally left all of my books in my mother’s car), I have decided to write a blog for BRBcoffee. I have neglected you, my old friend, and for that I am sorry.
I’d like to start off with some bitching. For the past, oh, 3 weeks I have been getting some incredibly shitty sleep. See, the root of the problem is that my internal schedule does not align with that of mainstream America. Waking up at 6:00 AM just isn’t my style. Like some dark, slimy creature risen from the Underworld with hopes of destroying the human race, it’s simply…unnatural. Having to go to bed by 10 PM is blasphemy as well, yet I try and try and try and try to do it, day after day after day after day, because I have to. I try to use the weekends to recharge, but that has not been happening these past few weeks and that is why I feel like I am losing my mind. Also, last night I dreamt all night about weird ass shit, the only particulars I remember are the following-
being forcefully kissed by this dude:
and then falling in love with this one:
I don’t know these boys, mind you! They are simply members of a band I saw one time, thought, “Eh, they’re alright. That one dude looks like Robert Plant and Jesus,” and briefly mentioned in a blog. You see? My mind is fucked, my friends.
I have found a remedy though. You take a cup of hot water, dissolve into it a nighttime cold medicine tablet, add a shot of whiskey and some honey, and proceed to drink it rapidly because it tastes fucking sick. In my neck o’ the woods, we call these “nighttime toddies.” They aren’t exactly good for you, hence I can’t drink them every night, but my God do they make you sleep like a little baby.
In other news, today is Thursday. That means tomorrow I work at my volunteer job, and then the weekend shall be upon me! Yay! Oh…except I have to write two papers and create a presentation sometime within that joyousness, but that’s okay because it’s the WEEKEND!
[Umm…I just looked over at the computer screen of the person next to me and she was staring hypnotically at a video of a lighter burning…dropping some acid, are we???]
Alas, it is 4:49 and I must leave you all in order to catch my ride. I hope you have a fabulous weekend and dream about making out with dudes who look like Jesus.
Toodles!
Amazing how I can’t find the time, as of late, to write about semi-worthwhile subjects.
I suppose we should talk about Egypt. First of all, I haven’t actually researched what’s going on too in-depth and therefore I probably shouldn’t even be bringing it up, but why the hell not? As a paranoid, pro-“fuck-the-government” kind of person by nature, I have to side with the protesters. I would estimate that about 99.99999999999% of the time, government is fucking with its citizens. Revolution is a beautiful thing. That attitude of standing up for yourself against the big bad monster is simply…liberating. Of course, I might not feel the same way if I were the one(s) in power, but seeing as most citizens of planet Earth will never, ever, be the ones in power, I think it’s safe to say most of us feel the same. Naturally, there are those few dumb-asses that look at what’s happening on the news and say, “Those damn Arabs are always causin’ some kinda trouble!” (I may or may not unfortunately live in the same household as one said dumbass.) If they simply weren’t ignorant as all get out, they, too, would be on the side of the protesters. You know, that makes me think about Republicans- but that’s a whole different blog that should be saved for another day.
Being that I live in America and share a household with average Americans, I get to witness a variety of, how I shall I say, political absurdities. For instance, the news has made a bigger deal over the fact that Angelina Jolie’s schedule for filming a movie about Cleopatra will now be delayed due to the protests, than the actual protests themselves! WTF, man. Perhaps this is why most Americans (including myself) are poorly informed on just about everything. “Freedom of the press,” yes yes, but at what point do we reign them in and say, “Tell me the fucking truth!?” I will admit that I, myself, am aware that I could actually go seek the truth out there on the wild internet frontier and that I am just too lazy at the moment to do so, but that’s just me. Most people actually take their news for news. Sad, but true.
Well, in two paragraphs I’ve managed to blaspheme America, American news, government in general, and even Angelina Jolie.
My job here is done.
[poll id=”39″]