What kind of scum am I?

Today I finished my HTML assignment, which was to design a web menu for a made-up restaurant. I finished it while drunk at 6:30 pm. So on the one hand, I feel kind of sleazy and lame, but on the other, I feel like 'hell yeah, I did that shit while drunk.' I didn't have any adjectives for that.

500 Days of Summer confused me

Now, let me say, I liked it. It was a well-crafted film, coherent, certainly not confusing due to any plot problems or technical things. But check this out:

Separated at birth? (this is an expression I invented, to describe two unrelated people who look similar)

Because I am unfamiliar with the actor who played Mackenzie, and because apparently I can't tell white people apart, I sat there the entire time sort of wondering, "Is that M. Ward?" For those who don't know, M. Ward is the singer-songwriter dude that works with with Zooey Deschanel pretty frequently. I thought maybe it was like, one of those fun Hollywood inside-joke things where they get their friends to be in their movies or something. The only way I can tell who is who in the above image is because you can kind of see the microphone, and you can tell from the nature of the left photograph that it's a sort of pretentious musician photo.
But seriously, Google image them. They look pretty much the same.

Anyway, that guy was funny. I liked him. I wish he was my friend.

I sometimes think about elderly famous people and how they're likely to die sooner or later, but I'm never quite ready for it. Frank McCourt is sick and apparently likely to die within a few weeks. I really don't think he had another book in him, but it still makes me sad.

FALSEbook

Facebook keeps on recommending that I add this random woman as a friend. I don't have any friends in common with her. Why does it want me to be her friend so badly? How does this work? I don't get it.

The title is not clever. I apologise.

i'd hop an ocean liner

My blog friend says I do not blog enough, so here is another entry.

This is a clip of a video we watched in jazz history. There was a lot of stuff we heard in that course that I couldn't get into, but this is really mesmerizing. It's even a little addictive, I watch it over and over again. The commentary near the end is hilarious. Stanley Crouch, I have no idea who you are or what you do, but you are awesome.

I will use italicized square brackets to provide more context in run-on sentences

A few weeks ago in Media And Communications [a lame class where we look at newspapers and magazines and learn how to write news articles the way we did when we were in junior high so what the hell am I doing learning this as a 22-year-old, my god, this is so incredibly community college, but the teacher is reasonably cool, she rides a motorcycle and is young and hip and I like her pants], this girl in my class [who is unbelievably stupid, but I try not to hate her for it because it's not like it's her fault that she's dumb, but honestly it's frustrating sometimes because she'll have these little bursts of defiance where she thinks she is courageously challenging what the teacher is telling us, but really she's just being a big idiot] was saying how, oh it's so terrible the way newspapers go on and on about a celebrity when they die, but they don't talk about normal people that way, and how come nobody cares when someone you never heard of dies? She was making a very impassioned speech about it, how society's so evil, and what's wrong with people, oh god.

But it's not evil. There's nothing evil about it. You're allowed to care about the death of somebody you never met, because maybe their work inspired you or touched you or was with you during some significant part of your life and you remember that, and it reminds you of something lovely or something heartbreaking and that's important to you.
You're allowed to not go to pieces over somebody you never heard of, because if you really cared that much about every human being on earth, you'd be miserable all the time.
It's not a reflection of how evil and superficial and uncaring society is. It's an emotional response that makes perfect sense.

Michael Jackson is dead and everyone is sick of hearing about it. But I think I'm allowed to feel a wee bit sad about it, even though I wasn't a particularly big fan and I didn't know him. I'm not saying I'm crying about it or I'm running out to buy all his CDs or I'm thinking about it every second or I'm reading about his life on Wikipedia, and I'm not defending those people. I just feel a little sad and surprised and I really wasn't expecting this. I've heard some really callous things being said by the more cynical people, and to be honest, it's kind of annoying, because I feel like I'm being lumped in with those tools who are running out to buy all his albums now that he's dead, and that's not who I am. I'm sure somebody has something to say about me writing this at all, but fuck it, I haven't ranted in a good while.

To me, it just feels strange and sad when someone like him, who has been present for my entire existence, just kicks the bucket without any warning. I'm not devastated. But the world feels slightly different each time something like this happens.

You know, as a kid, his music really touched me. And if he hadn't died, I'm sure he would have touched my kids too.
Alright, I did totally steal that joke from School of Rock. And it was inappropriate.

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How is it that I've never heard of this game until today?



Cue up to 1:57, so awesome.