Monday, October 30, 2006
Today I took my first step into a bigger, nerdier world. Before I tell you exactly what that step was let me first say a few things in my defense. I have seen Lost. I have believed that something might actually be answered in a future episode, and I've learned that no matter how much people talk on the internet about their theories about the show, that doesn't give them anymore of a life. That said, it's confession time.
With the promise of new and wonderful shows for this fall season, I was feeling optimistic about television. I soon found that my week would scheduled around ANTM, Biggest Looser, Studio 60, Grey's Anatomy and, you guessed it, Heroes. In the past I've had, what I consider, very good taste in TV shows. (for proof of this I will refer to the mutiple seasons of Arrested Development, News Radio and The Office that I own (BTW those are supposed to show that I have GOOD taste)) But this fall's season has me a little caught up in the moment (Live in the now!) and thus my downfall.
After experiencing the deadly mix of a Hero's marathon, and being bored at work, I found myself perusing online forums which postulate about what's in store for the new cult-classic. (it gets worse) After scanning for a few moments I was surprised to see that no one had mentioned the one plot twist that I saw as completely obvious, and I was shocked that it had not even been addressed as a possibility! Well. Being the consciencous television viewer that I am, I could not simply stand by, and let these spoiler-hounds remain in the dark. So I did the noble thing, and I did it with as much humility as I could muster up (I even included a disclaimer that someone may have already pointed out this oh-so-obvious plot twist, and I had just neglected to see it)
I thought that at most I would get a polite response saying that my idea was interesting, or even unfounded. Boy was I wrong. Within 5 minutes my natural curiousity got the best of my, and I logged back on to see if anyone had responded. At first I was confused because I couldn't find my original post, then I discovered that it was about three pages back. Three pages of responses by the Uber-nerds who rule that domain, berrating me for bringing up a topic which had already been debunked by their larger-than-life-super-computer-like-minds. (although they failed to cite their sources, I guess uber-nerds don't NEED to take English 110) Apparently my idea would have been a great one if I had "come up with it TWO WEEKS AGO" I'm ashamed. I guess I'll just take my 12 sided die and go back to playing D&D in my basement.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
MySpace. A place for friends. And also a place where men from foreign countries can share their secret pain and confess their undying love for you from the comfort of their own homes, through the anonymity of an online message. Ahhhhh. Isn't the internet great! (or The Web, as I like to call it)
Most of the time these messages are from someone who could rightly be referred to as a Senior-Crazy-Bitey-Hands (read March 28th) type man, but this time, I was amazed by the blunt eloquence of this humble Egyptian man's request.
Subject: Please . . . Janay?
I was looking soooooooooo hard, I was looking everywhere and anywhere untill I realized that she doesn't exist, she really doesn't exist at all....... So I decided to stop looking and give up about women forever forever forever..... The princess of my dreams doesn't exist, that's for sure!..........BUT.......When I looked at your charming eyes, I felt a spark running all over my body, I felt that I'm living in heaven......And when I looked at your warm irresistible smile, I felt that I'm the happiest person on this planet, I felt that this world is smilling to me.......And when I looked at your beautiful angelic face, I felt that I'm flying in the sky, I felt that this world is mine!!..... But unfortunately, I don't live in USA, I'm not american, I'm not even the same religion as you are....so of course you are not interested in me!!!......**SIGH!!**
Curse the infernal fates who conspire to keep us apart! I'm sorry that you took yourself on a wild-goose chase only to find out that the princess of your dreams does not exist! I know exaclty how that feels. When I was 7 I spent hours in my backyard setting leperchauns traps. Boy was I disappointed. But keep your head up Mero! You, and I? We are the same! We may yet find that princess (or prince) of our dreams! It's like you say in your ABout Me section. There are four kinds of people. But me, Mero? I'm the second kind. I'm still searching for my soulmate and so must you! I will not let you quit! Be strong and perservere and in time, you might just get that chance to propose to Nicole Kidman in front of all her body guards, but then, the answer will be up to her. . . **SIGH**
I have yet to get a response . . .
Upon reading my recent blog about my general incompetence as a human, I was overwhelmed by the amount of remarks I got from friends and family, kindly reminding my that I had neglected to include some very key experiences. Now, lest I deceive you into thinking that I am more competent than my initial analysis claims, I have obligingly decided to include these additional proofs of my stupidity. Why? Because I'm just that smart.
*Courtesy of Nicole*
When I came home one night I noticed a grasshopper the size of a Buick resting comfortably on my from door. Well, I decided, this measly invertebrate would not best me! So I causally swatted the beast away with the back of my hand. What I didn't know was that Mr. Jiminy Cricket was not going down so easily. Without warning he leapt from the door and dive-bombed my head with the speed and accuracy of a . . . well, of a grasshopper I suppose.
Not to be out done, I also whipped into action and dodged in the only direction I could (my Matrix move is woefully under-practiced, so I had no choice but to bend forward). Unfortunately the bug had cornered me, and my rash decision to dodge resulted in me scraping my head along the brick surface of my building as the bug flittered away smugly into the night. Besides my hurt ego that I had to nurse for days, I also had perfectly parallel scratch marks on my forehead as a constant reminder of my encounter.
Upon reflection I can only assume that the cricket was exacting revenge on me for all those little grasshoppers I used to put in jars with bits of grass when I was little. Next time I'll be sure to add a twig.
PS If you can think of any other memories I might have repressed that would befit another blog entry on the subject, please don't hesitate to remind me . . . I have complete faith in your ability to do so.
Monday, October 16, 2006
In the past I've felt that I needed to blog about SOMETHING. But no longer. From here out I vow to blog about EVERYTHING and NOTHING as I see fit. And if you don't like it? Too bad sucka! You'll have nothing and you'll like it!
Let the nothing begin. (Cue the rock man and his friends, man on snail, and hamster/bat thing. All together now? "The Nothing . . .")
I recently had two conversations with two friends. Who also happen to befriends with each other, but for the purposes of this blog, shall remain independently anonymous. One friend said "what's the point of a blog? The only people reading your blog are your friends so you can't write all the personal stuff you'd want to because it includes them, and so you have to censor yourself and what's the fun of writing something that you can post online for the world to see if you have to censor yourself?" Needless to say this friend has a tendency for run-on sentences.
The second conversation I had with my second friend has no relevance to this blog and therefore I will not give you the details. In the end though I couldn't help thinking, friend number one has a point.
Although there ARE ways around the anonymity problem such as giving all your friends alibi's, but in the end you're forced to use an alibi that you can actually remember; such as spelling the name backwards, or something else completely original and sure to keep the true identity under wraps (once again, a shout out of thanks to my BFF Haras)
So what's to be done? There are two options left.
Option #1: admit defeat and blog only about things that your friends (and family) will approve of, namely anecdotes of wild adventures that you highly over-exaggerate in order to make your life sound more interesting and exciting than it actually is.
Option #2: scream triumphantly and without reservation "social graces be damned!" and steel yourself against the barrage of angry comments (or lack of comments) that will plague your blog as you brazenly flout your opinions of your friends and family (and acquaintances) bad taste in clothing, movies and all things you consider yourself an expert in. (Harry Potter trivia?)
Personally I'd opt for option #3: (I know, I know I said there were only two,but if I told you there were three it'd ruin the dramatic suspense THAT IS this blog) Ah hem.
Option #3: Tell all your friends, family, and acquaintances (and pets) that you have an amusingly charming blog, dutifully update it with humorous accounts of your utterly mundane life, then secretly, and without reservation upkeep ANOTHER blog where you can vent your stress, resentment, or sheer glee concerning the events of that utterly mundane life we talked about earlier.
Granted, not everyone's life is as utterly mundane as my own, and therefore these parameters may not apply to them. I, for example, have never punched myself in the face and so I do not have that kind of experience to draw from. But let me just say this. If someday in the near future you see a mysterious link to an even more mysterious blog, full of secrets and indiscretions you never before thought your mild-mannered friend was capable of, rest assured, it's not mine.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Upon request, here is my blog. Why is Kari stupid, you ask? We may never know. We can only refer to the symptoms and endless examples that only scratch the surface of the unknown bottomless pit that is the stupidity of Kari. You want some of these examples? Either because I’m that nice or that stupid, I will acquiesce to your request.
1. I’ve been crazy about the same guy for nearly four years. He doesn’t know.
2. He stands me up on at least a monthly basis. I still let him get away with it.
3. I keep expecting him to get his act together.
4. I keep hoping that he’ll ignore the two gorgeous girls that want him, and pick me instead.
5. I keep applying the B.S. through everything principle of high school, although my grades clearly reflect the fallacy of utilizing such an idea beyond public school.
6. My back really hurts. If I do daily exercises, it feels better. Once I actually did the exercises on my mission and my back stopped hurting. And so I stopped doing the exercises.
7. I still somehow believe in the idea that personality will get you farther than looks.
Mission moments of stupidity
1. I wore two different shoes—one brown, one black for a whole day on accident.
2. I shot an elder in the eye with a rubber band.
3. Because of me, missionaries are no longer allowed to play foozball at the institute building in Leeds, England.
4. I killed Kenny (the car) the day we got him.
5. I locked the keys in the car twice (although this was Walter). Actually the second time I didn’t, but I thought I had, so we spent thirty minutes trying to break into a car that didn’t actually have the keys in it.
1. This was over general conference. I asked Sterling at the conference center where the SLC temple was, and it was literally RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. Cool, huh.
2. ITRYSOHARD. That’s stupid.
These are just a few of Kari’s moments of stupidity. I hope you enjoyed them as much as they embarrass(ed) me!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Over the last few years I have come to realize that if something strange and bizarre is going to happen, it's going to happen to Sarah. But if something utterly idiotic is going to happen, it's probably my fault. Don't believe me? I didn't think you would. Therefore I have compiled a list of proofs of my general incompetence as a human being. Enjoy.
When I was the first person to use the bathroom at work, I did not notice the toilet seat was still up from the cleaning crew, and I promptly sat directly IN the toilet bowl.
No matter how many times I look it up, I always misspell the word "necessary",or is it "neccesary"?
The first formal dance I went to in college, I tripped and fell face first down 2 flights of stairs, leaving my date behind in the dust.
When my friend said "I don't think I have your number" I assumed he said "I think I have your number", and then wondered why he sat there awkwardly fiddling with the seatbelt, looking at me expectantly.
I have spent entire days being angry with someone for something they did in my dream.
After I broke my full-length mirror, Sarah bought me another one as a gift, which I shattered not two days later in exactly the same way.
I have never gone an entire winter without falling, butt first, on the ice.
When I left a notebook containing some personal entries at my auto-maintenance class, I decided not to ask my teacher about it, on the off chance that he had read it, and would therefore connect the ramblings of a bitter psychopath to myself.
I am so OCD about folding wrappers that I don't like to eat Hershey's Kisses, because the wrappers always tear.
Everytime I wash dishes by hand I get a wet spot across my waist from leaning against the counter. It has never occurred to me to use a towel.
One of the first times I wore heels in public, I punctured a hole in the floor of my local rite-aid. I've never worn heels in a drug store since.
I panic when my alarm goes off and I won't push any buttons until I'm sure I have the right one because I'm scared that the wrong button will some how result in a huge catastrophe.
Every time I try to use a USB drive, it takes me at least 3 tries to figure out which direction it goes in.
When pickin up my curling iron, I yanked the cord which then pulled my basket of make-up off the shelf, and into the toilet. Then I went eyeliner-fishing.
Sometimes when I'm asleep, I snore so loudly and abruptly that I wake myself up.
Right now I would rather work on my blog than go over to my boss to ask for something to do, because that would involve walking by the cute guy's cubicle. And I'd rather be bored than have another awkward look-in-look-out-look-in-look-out situation.
After spell-checking this blog, I noticed that I accidently changed 'Hershey kisses' to 'horse's kisses'.
I think I've made my point.