You know what I really hate these days? If you answered "everything"
then, thank you, you've clearly been paying attention. If you answered
"life-sized dolls" then you're partially right. If you answered "frito
pie" then you're clearly a fucking moron.
No, but, really--you
know what I really fucking hate these days? All these
pseudoscientific doctor shows that have popped up in the past year or
two, peddling an infuriating pastiche of vague, bullshit statistics,
scare tactic proclamations, and retarded-ass computer
simulations/graphics which serve no purpose other than to provide
something at which visual stimuli-addicted Americans can goggle. And by
"all these" shows, I really mean two: The Doctors and The Dr.
Oz Show. There are probably more out there, but we don't have
cable--so my universe only encompasses the choices available on six
channels. Whatever. As far as I'm concerned, two are more than enough.
So,
the first (and really the main) point that I take issue with is all the
pseudoscientific malarkey that's going on here. It brings to mind my brief,
glorious tirade against Tresemme's Hydrology haircare line. Fucking
idiots. It also reminds me of an article from The Onion, my
most trusted news source in these troubled times. (Personally, I would
welcome the addition of Extreme Gravity to the Science Channel's
lineup, but I'm a fucking nerd. Apparently.)
But back to my point:
I hate pseudoscience. It's just so...demeaning. To real science, I
mean. And to those of us who actually value things like evidence and the
scientific method and putting Mentos into Diet Coke and seeing if it
explodes. But seriously--dumbed down pseudoscience makes actual science
seem so much lamer and more easily accessible than it actually is. Not
that science shouldn't be accessible or anything. But there's a
difference between communicating complex scientific ideas and
information in a way which facilitates its understanding...and
simplifying shit to a point where it becomes meaningless and boring. And
hellshitdamnfuckasstitties!--science ain't meaningless and boring! I
think Einstein said that.
More importantly, I take issue with people invoking the ideas of
"science" and "medicine"--or even just using "science-y" sounding words,
as in the case of Tresemme's Hydrology line--in order to establish a
(false) sense of authority. The automatic ceding of authority to
doctors--something which both patients and doctors consciously and
unconsciously participate in--is a cultural tendency I take issue with
as it is. It's a complex interplay that involves ideas about power,
knowledge, bodies, gender, class, race, and a plethora of other annoying
liberal arts college vocabulary words. So it pisses me off that shows
like Dr. Oz and The Doctors not only enthusiastically
perpetuate this kind of shit, but actually make it so much worse by
doing such an embarrassingly bad job of presenting medical
information--like they're airhead anchors on some celebrity gossip show.
The
ultimate problem here is that with this self-generated authority, the
authoritative person (or institution) is granted undeserved legitimacy,
potentially aiding in the justification of ridiculous or harmful ideas.
In other words, people will be more likely to believe some stupid
bullshit The Doctors say (even when it's beyond their scope
within the medical field) simply because they are Doctors,and
also because they are invoking Scientific Statisticsto (weakly)
support their claims.
************
Stay tuned for the exciting second half of this boringass tirade, because I'm too lazy to finish writing it right now!
Alright, back to business. I promised you some epic tales of nerdery and I shall not disappoint.
However, on a side note, I have to say that I'm not entirely confident in my ability to properly convey the ridiculousness in all its glory. The thing that's both awesome and frustrating about being a keen observer (or, you know, at least a ruthless judger) of human interactions is that there are so many weird subtleties--from tone of voice to minute changes in facial expression to the general feeling the interaction creates--that are hard to communicate and that are also an integral part of the scene.
I frequently think (as I'm bumbling through a mangled explanation of some awferful [awful + wonderful] situation), "Why can't you just be inside my brain!?" Because then I wouldn't have to explain all this shit--you could just know--and then also you could experience firsthand the wonder that is Bored Sarah's Magical Food Dance Party Imagination Time--everyone wins! (Sometimes referred to as a win-win-win style of conflict resolution.)
But back to the point of all this: nerds in class.
Obviously, being exposed to the extremely nerdy is to be expected when one is going to school for computer stuff (and yes, that's a technical term); I labor under no illusions to the contrary. Somehow, however, I'm experiencing a heretofore unimaginable level of nerdom in my Flash class. The first few days of exposure I surprised myself by actually enjoying the nerdly goings on. "Perhaps," I thought, "I'm turning over a new leaf! Maybe I'm maturing and learning to appreciate the wonderful variety of human expression!" A few days later, of course, things were back to their normal, immediately-get-annoyed-and-yet-find-myself-compelled-to-observe state. No need to worry.
So. Let me just tell you. Nerds.
There are most definitely nerds scattered throughout the classroom, but I think I've somehow managed to seat myself in some kind of Nerdmuda Triangle; I'm hemmed in on all sides. (But, actually, I'm glad that I'm not on the other side of the room, as, apparently, it's home to a small cadre of crazy alterna-xTiAnS who somehow manage to work Jesus into all of their animation projects. And talk about how Ben Stein/creationism are awesome. And how Obama is a commie. And how global warming isn't real, because "come on; the climate existed before people!" [How many days before? Like, four, by their extremely accurate Biblical reckoning? Maybe I should ask...])
Okay, so, there are three dudes that sit behind me who comprise a kind of nerd variety pack. There's the wispy mustachioed, anime-obsessed "ethnic" one; the "slightly less ethnic" comic book fatty, complete with constant, overly loud comments/jokes (which are immediately punctuated with his own awkward laughter); and the white, trying-to-look-normie-but-isn't-quite-succeeding general variety of nerd guy. The conversations back there generally consist of swapping various nerd-related suggestions (video game tips, pocket protector recommendations, etc.), spiked with a healthy dose of that weird one-upmanship (concerning things that no one should be proud of) of which nerds seem so fond.
A typical interaction goes like this:
Variety Pack Nerd #1: ...blahblahblah, something about how I like to eat ramen.
VPN #2: Well, have you ever had REAL ramen??
VPN #1: [said immediately, in a defensive/trying-to-sound-cool voice] Yes!
VPN #2: Well, my friend TOSHIKO, who's JAPANESE blahblahblah...
(This continues on for a good while, all the dudes attempting to establish their Dominance of Lame.)
Then there's the girl that sits next to me. I'm guessing she's all of 18 and has no idea what to do with the gigantic boobz with which she's been blessed. Pasty skin, stringy hair, and bad glasses (as distinguished from good glasses--which I, of course, wear); spends the whole time the teacher is lecturing drawing crappy anime pictures/fine tuning random, poorly spelled "sassy" statements (like the kind you see on t-shirts worn by annoying 12-year-olds) such as "To cute to care!" and "I stoped listening a hour ago." She is also responsible for one of my favorite animations thus far produced in the class: a scorpion blasting off in a rocket ship, followed by the words "Black Scorpion Cop. [I think she's trying to abbreviate "corporation"]: To the stars and beond!" Awesome.
Although she's not generally a part of the Variety Pack's conversations, sometimes she just can't help herself and has to turn around and insert her own proclamations of (her perceived) awesomeness:
Variety Pack Nerd #1: ...blahblahblah something about a videogame...
Nerd Girl with Big Boobz: [not actually a part of the conversation, but has obviously been listening, and so must swivel around to face the back row] I've beaten almost all the levels!
VPN #2: Yeahhhh [spoken in a drawn-out, obviously contrived "casual" tone], I've gotten 7,498 level-4 griffin-mage points [or something] already.
VPN #1: [again, said super "casually"] Oh, really? I'm up to 9,000.
NGBB: I would have 9,000, except that I don't want to have that many [or something equally ridiculous and defensive]...
The thing is, I have infinitely more respect for the Variety Pack than for NGBB--based solely on their higher level of intelligence (and not, as you might suspect, for their ability to shittily reproduce images of hot Japanese monster-girls getting violated by tentacles). Although my strong preference for intelligent people is broadly applied to the general population (and therefore isn't nerd-specific), there's definitely a special element of outrage (or at least bafflement) when I encounter an unintelligent nerd (UN).
Whatever your particular understanding of nerdiness is, I would bet that intelligence is one of the major defining factors. (I, of course, take issue with the fact that intelligence is considered a negative [read: nerdy] attribute. Then again, I'm, like, the reincarnation of Einstein and shit--so I might be slightly biased.) And when you (meaning I) encounter a UN--who isn't just not functioning at an above-average level of intelligence, but who is actually incredibly stupid...wow. It just throws my whole world view out of whack. And makes me kind of annoyed--what right do they have being a nerd if they're not smart?? And, mostly actually, just makes me feel incredibly sorry for them. Because, really, they have nothing going for them--no looks, social skills, or brains...how depressing.
Of course, there are many other little nerdlings in the class who I'm not describing (due to my lack of memory/stamina), so you'll just have to take my word that they're there. Oh, but briefly? One of the xTiAnS presented an animation for her photography business (which, supposedly, actually exists): Pazazz Designs [or something]! Pazazz! Unbelievable.
There's also a very pasty, lanky dude with long blond hair and glasses who wears (un-ironic) wolf shirts and makes animations involving swords/coats of arms. I kind of want to become friends with him. And then get him to design me a coat of arms--because you know I'm all about that medieval shit. [Note: I actually am all about that medieval shit.]
And now, very abruptly,
The End
PS: So, upon reflection, I'm pretty sure I did a shitty job of explaining things here...But I
warned you at the beginning, didn't I? Why can't all of you (two) just
be inside my brain? Mmmm, brain-meld.
PPS: I found this when I did an image search for "dancing food":
This morning I saw a Yahoo! headline which read "Thousands of Children Expected at White House Easter Egg Roll." I, of course, read it as "Thousands of Children Expected to Eat White House Eggrolls." I was confused. But then I read the actual article and I was even more confused...Why would Fergie perform at an Easter event for children? She doesn't exactly ooze wholesomeness (which is generally the way one expels one's wholesomeness, I'm told).
Which reminds me of two things:
1) Holidays that I don't celebrate1 are annoying. Yesterday The Mister and I wanted to go out for lunch and had to settle on our third or fourth choice because everything else was closed. "Oh, look at me! I want to be with my family on a special day! Wah wah wah!" Suck it up and cook me some quiche, asshole.
2) Rock of Love Bus with Bret Michaels makes my soul bleed. The women on this season are somehow even more hideous than the ones they managed to scrape up last time (Daisy, anyone?). I only saw part of one episode and I was severely disturbed. The women competed in the "First Annual Truck Stop Games" or some such cleverly named contest, which involved performing various tasks (belly flopping into a pool of beer, stripper pole dancing, etc.) whilst clad in basically nothing. They were judged by a panel of leering, overweight rednecks. The most disturbing part by far, however, was the fact that the audience was mostly comprised of families: lots of young girls and mothers who enthusiastically clapped and cheered. I kept searching the mothers' faces, sure that I would see a cringe, a frown, even a clearly faked smile--some indication that they realized their eight-year-old daughters shouldn't be exposed to such over the top misogyny...But, of course, no.
It freaks me out that adolescents grow up with such twisted examples of desirability and sexuality these days. I mean, clearly idealized images of women have always been just that--idealized and therefore not real to some degree. But it seems like things have reached some sort of stripper aesthetic extreme in the past decade or so, with this weird sense that women are empowered by being hyper-sexual, even while they're helping to exploit themselves. It's all too bizarre.
It seems pretty clear to me that shit like this is part of a long-building backlash against feminism--or at least a backlash against strains of feminism that existed several decades ago, or maybe even just what people wrongly perceive feminism to be--even if they don't consciously realize it. There's a book that addresses all this stuff, called Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and Rise of Raunch Culture. Maybe I should actually get around to reading it someday?
And that, children, is the story of how the Obamas, Fergie, and Bret Michaels ate eggrolls with the Easter Bunny and a cadre of strippers on the White House lawn.
The End.
1When/if we have les bebes, we will definitely be doing the secular Easter Bunny thing--you know, jellybeans not Jesus?
[Updated note for clarification: There are two separate links for the words "fucking" and "bullshit," which means that there is a total of three (3) linked articles about AIG's asshattery.]
I'm fucking pissed, y'all (but what's new?).
Remember how our government gave AIG all that bailout money? And then remember how AIG proceeded to blow a wad of cash on a bunch [link one] of fucking [link 2] bullshit [link 3]? Well, guess what? They just posted a $62 billion loss for the quarter and so now our government is forking over another $30 billion.
Lately I've been having some (minor) problems. Observe:
1) I'm kind of down lately, probably due in part to our house still being in a state of recently-moved-in-shambles (and I just can't seem to motivate myself to do anything about it), and probably partly due to the fact that this semester is totally sucky and boring. But that's okay. Both of these things will be fixed relatively soon, and then we can all move on to more exciting things, like baking homemade bread and buying an immersion blender and reading books about bread baking and immersion blenders.
2) Queefing in yoga class. Sigh. How embarrassing. It only started happening, like, 4 classes ago, and
only during shoulder stand. I'm not sure what's going on down there, but whatever it is, it definitely involves a lot of air. And also my vagina. And, actually, they were fairly quiet little fwips (and therefore totally deal-able)... until yesterday, when I ripped a really loud one. And everyone pretended like they didn't hear it. (Six people in a small, quiet room? Yeah, you all heard it.) And that's when I thought to myself, "Hm. Would it be better to try to convince them that it wasn't a fart, or is it actually worse to try to discuss air escaping from my hooha?" I mean, how do you even talk about that with a bunch of weird yoga strangers? Would you actually say the word "queef" (which, oh god, sounds so fucking disgusting to me; there needs to be a better, non-vomitous word [preferably not involving the letters q, u, f, or g, all of which tend to seem slightly gross]), or would you do some awkward dancing around a direct description--like, "It wasn't a fart! It was air that came out of...another part...that's not my butt"? In the end, I opted for pretending like it didn't happen, and held out hope that somehow no one else noticed it. Riiiiiight.
3) I've become kind of (read: very) baby crazy lately. As in, like, seeing babies in public and staring at them for a really long time. As in, like, reading library books about pregnancy and birth and parenting. As in, like, wanting to have a baby. I don't know if this technically qualifies as a "problem," but it's kind of freaking me out. [Edit: I'm actually not freaking out anymore; I'm happily resigned.] It's also freaking out The Mister, but I think he'll feel a little better once I foist one of my library books on him. Or maybe he'll feel even worse...fun! [Note: Apparently, babies are made by white people made out of paper. Or something.]
4) I can't not lift the lid off a pot of cooking rice in order to check its progress. I know, I know. It lets the precious steam escape and makes it take longer to cook and, oh god, I just want my rice to be done! Last night I made a very delicious rice-mushroom-onion meal, using Trader Joe's Brown Rice Medley, a most fucking tasty blend of brown rice, black barley, and daikon radish seeds. I highly recommend it. [Side note: A Trader Joe's Fan website? Awesome!]
5) Um, hello? Proposition 8 (in California)? All those other douchebag states that voted to deny people their rights, either through marriage or adoption? Yeah, I have a problem with you. More on this later, to be sure.
6) I'm sure there's something else, but who wants to sit around and listen to me complain about air-filled ladyparts and civil rights violations and poor cooking habits? Bo-ring.
Way to go, America! You're not as much of a douchebag as I thought (although, yes, you're still pretty douche-y).
This is the first time in my adult life when I can actually be proud of our president; it's the first time that someone of intelligence and integrity has represented our country to the world. I'm not naive enough to assume that monumental changes will automatically occur, but I am grateful that we're taking steps in the right direction. (I sound a lot like Kristen.) Plus, I'm so insanely happy that Bush the Fucktard only has, like, 75 days left in office. Phew.
In my neighborhood last night we heard people yelling, honking, and lighting fireworks. It felt like Christmas, but with less frankincense and a lot more myrrh.
