Wahmbulance!

An apple a day makes you a big fat cow!

Sometimes, Dear Reader, Hollywood Moments, rather than amuse and delight me, stun me as would a hammer betwixt the eyes.

This is one such time.

The dialogue herein is guaranteed boiled down from two or three ACTUAL conversations I’ve had in the last few months:

    [general ridiculous banter about various food paranoiae the Hollywood ladies have]            

WOMAN 1
    …And then it turns out I have a real problem with snacking!

WOMAN 2
    What were you eating?      

WOMAN 1
    Apples, or dried fruit…

WOMAN 2
    Fruit has so much sugar in it…         

WOMAN 1
    Uhmagod, I know!  I had no idea!   

WOMAN 2
    You can’t eat that much sugar, it’s so bad for you.   

MY INNER BLOGABLE! ALERT SYSTEM
    WhuhWHUH?   

WOMAN 1
    I know!  And my kickboxing teacher said you can’t eat bananas after NOON!       

ME
    Why NOT?      

WOMAN 1
    Because they’re so hard to process!      

ME
    Well… isn’t that the point?

Quizzical looks all around, then the ignoring of the obvious chowderhead            

WOMAN 2
    You can’t eat ANYthing after 3, or it turns RIGHT to fat.    

WOMAN 1
    Oh I know…   

WOMAN 2
    Especially fruit… it’s so bad for you.      

MY BRAIN
    *le pouf*

I didn’t even try to bring up the delicious bounty of brown rice, Dear Reader, just to see if they'd run from the room screaming, or, alternately (and deliciously), try to kill me with the sharp steely glances of the malnourished, though my mischievous side begged me to, but the bleeding in my frontal cortex was affecting my speech centers.

This, I do believe, is my favorite Hollywood moment since the time I lost 10 or more pounds in a week after nearly being hospitalized with the flu; upon returning to work, I was universally congratulated for looking like a junkie from Baden-Baden.

fiber and complex carbohydrates be damned!
x

Faked doctor's excuses just aren't what they used to be.

In the normal course of teaching, Dear Reader, one comes across many types of students: the diamonds in the rough, the already quite talented but happy to learn more, the already somewhat talented who think they are too good to trifle with silly things like homework, the ASSberger's sufferers, the students who just plain shouldn't be there, and the various combinations of the above. 

What I have here, I believe, is the just about to graduate, needs one more credit, and mistakenly thinks my class is an easy A very talented student.  Kid didn't turn in anything for the first week, and at the very, very last minute, gives me a doctor's note giving him twice as long to complete any assignments given.

Convenient.  To say the least.

After some back and forth with my superiors, it's determined that this is, in fact, a legitimate document.  Upon further investigation with my Super Visual Effects Artist SUPER HISTOGRAM-O-RAY VISION however, I found the document to! be!

FORGED!

Dun Dun Dun!!!

Gotta get up a little earlier in the morning to fool Super VFX Artista, buddy.  YEAH!  Busted!

Well, no, because my superiors turn out to be superior non believers in my secret identity. 

on to fight another day,
x

Hey you, guy who lives in mommy's basement:

Yeah, you, signfroid@msn or whatever!

(dude. MSN?  Natch.)

i can has cheezburger?  You are the proof of my Unified Field of Nerds Theory.  KISSEZ!

we r in ur interwebs
writin ur blogz
x

It don't make no sense.

So, riddle me this, Dear Reader.

Why would anyone go to all the bother, involving, but not limited to, a wasted lunch hour, a possible trip to the Valley, ruined underpants, problems sitting down comfortably for the rest of the afternoon, and just the general pain-in-the-assetry of getting a Brazilian, which is wrong on so many levels, but let’s stay on issue here, because there are few things I hate more than Feminism with a capital “F”, but still, why are we supporting, nay, paying big bucks, even, to conform to a society that only thinks we’re fuckable if we look like twelve year old girls, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT @%$#@%$#, but I digress, why would you put up with the inconvenience and the pain in the literal and figurative and quite possibly moral pain in the ass to get a Brazilian wax and then wear a FUZZY BROWN CASHMERE STRING BIKINI?

Who are the ad wizards?

fall into the gap, indeed.
x

BMW Owner PRIZE!

Yaaaaaaaay, White BMW Driver at La Cienega between the 10 on-ramp and Venice Boulevard!  You win a prize.  Here's why:

1) Use of turn signal!  Woot!
b) THANK YOU WAVE! 

Good job, nice BMW lady!  Whosagoodgirl! Whoooooooseagoodgirl!

In addition to these, you also looked over your shoulder before turning into my lane, and you tuned right into the lane closest to the right, as required by law!  Gold stars!

BMW people, take not of your exceedingly well behaved sister.  Or else.

weimarrrrific!
x

Phone Etiquette: Let's review, shall we?

A confused young man called me long distance yesterday.  Confused, that is, upon whom the burden of apology and shut-the-fuck-upness applies with regard to a wrong  number being reached.  Herewith, a point by point examination of his telephone etiquette mistakes various and sundry, along with some helpful tips:

WRONG:
Hello?
Hey, whassup.
Em, I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number.
Who's this?

RIGHT:
Hello?
Hello, this is So and So... may I speak with So and So?
I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number.
My mistake!  Sorry to bother you.
No problem!  Have a good day.
You too.
*click*

WRONG:
Who's this?
I'm sorry, who's calling?
I'm calling for Richard.
I'm sorry, there is no one here by that name, I believe you have the wrong number.
Is this Los Angeles?  Lemme talk to Richard.

RIGHT:
I'm sorry to have bothered you - but is it Los Angeles I'm calling?
Yes it is, but there are other area codes.  Try 213 or 310.
Thanks very much.
You're welcome.
*click*

WRONG:
Is this 323-xxx-xxxx?
Yes, but you have the wrong number, I'm afraid.
No I don't.

RIGHT:
May I ask, have I dialed 323-xxx-xxxx?
Yes, but I'm afraid it's the wrong number.
I must have written it down wrong.  Thanks!
No problem.
*click*

WRONG:
You don't have to be a total bitch about it.
I'm sorry, all I said was that you had a wrong number.
No I don't.  Bitch.

RIGHT:
Me getting back to making pancakes after hanging up the phone.

WRONG:
Calling back one hundred times, spewing various misogynistic slurs.

RIGHT:
Me cooking pancakes and listening to music, no phone ringing.

WRONG:
Wasting one's hard earned money calling a wrong number long distance to get the last word in when clearly the second party doesn't care what the other party does or thinks, resulting in the second party's winning the entire episode by default.

RIGHT:
Take phone off hook, make pancakes, play with pets, hum contentedly.  Doo doo doo.

I hope you have found this brief review helpful, Dear Reader, clearing up any confusion you may have.  No one likes a rude phone caller.  Especially not ME.

doot doo doo...
x

BMW Owners: Special Breed, or just Plain Ol' Assholes?

Full disclosure:  I once owned a 1978 BMW something or other for about two seconds before I wrecked it.   I was never so happy to suffer from cerebral hematoma-induced vertigo and nausea in my entire life.

Seriously though, WHAT'S THE DEAL (/seinfeld) with BMW owners?  Are they eugenic fucking mutants, somehow loosed upon an unsuspecting world?  Are they hatched in some Bavarian lab?  Are you required to take a DNA and/or MMPI test before you're allowed to purchase a precious Ultimate Driving Machine?

Which part didn't you understand?

The word "group" or "project?"  HUH?  WHICH IS IT, PUNK???

My students confound me, Dear Reader.

As you may know, I teach computer animation online.  Every session, there is a group project that for some reason completely confuses the entire class.  I will admit, the question, which I did not write, as worded is a bit convoluted, but it breaks down to: Do some research, and tell me about the use of 3D graphics in the industry.

Did your brain explode yet?  No?  Huh.  Well, every time we get to the week that has the group projects, I can hear students' heads popping like grapes.  In a microwave.

Because this assignment throws about 80% of my students (which, conveniently, corresponds to the percentage of native english speakers I have who can't put a sentence together no matter how much I beg) I try to rewrite it to clarify the objective of the assignment. 

This session, my best rewrite yet, NOBODY did the assignment. NOBODY!!!   In a million years, Dear Reader, would it occur to you to simply not do a project that was worth 33% of your grade?

That popping sound you hear is my grape exploding in the microwave.

And what's more?  In one group - and only one - two people actually did some of the research, and then turned their pieces in separately.  SEPARATELY!!!!  Did the definition of "group" change when I wasn't looking?   Does it only apply to porn now?  God, I'm stupid.  What could I be thinking, "group project?" What a mo I turned out to be, huh?

You know what I really hate?  When someone says, "gee, tell me what you really think!" I just did, asshole.  And now I think I hate you. 

Anyhoo.

Now, everybody knows that a "group project" usually ends up with one person (usually me, and, I suspect, you too, Dear Reader) doing all the work and putting the final report together, right?  That's a universal constant right? 

Then why do I get angry email from students who can't believe that they actually have to put a final report together?  And I truly mean that They.  Cannot.  Believe it.  Like, I'm some kind of crazy person for even suggesting such a thing.  CRAZY PERSON!  AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

I'm working on my next rewrite:

Find out about 3D graphics.  You, you and you, pool your info and put together a report.  You, spend more time sending bitchy email to me than it would take to do the entire project yourself.  You and you, don't turn in anything and then complain that you didn't know when it was due.  Whew (brushing off hands)!  Did I forget anyone?  Oh right, you, do a whole lot of work that has nothing to do with anything in this class, don't turn in anything that is ACTUALLY due for this class, and then draaaaaaaag out the opportunity to make up for it and pass the class, and then in the end, don't turn in anything.

I made that guy write an essay on teamwork.  And then I never read it.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! 

One must entertain herself in order to survive, Dear Reader.

time for a little cuteoverload...
mlle_x

Do you ever want to just start slapping people because they're so stupid?

Lemme hear you say YEAH Dear Readers!  Discuss amongst yourselves, come back and let me know via the handy dandy comments link below.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,
mlle_x