I like "my little pony." I cannot explain my fascination with this made-in-china toy. Typically I dislike cheesy, cutesy things like human babies, Hallmark cards, pink bows, mantelpiece figurines, dog clothes, over the top happy endings, etc; however "my little pony" is one exception.
There's something about their funky color combinations and tails to match, big anime eyes, cutesy symbols on the back tight, and their cheesy names such as Cotton Candy, Apple Jack and Dream Drifter. I only had four ponies until last weekend. I'm embarrassed to admit that due to the magic of internet shopping (and some misbalance in my brain), I'm now the owner of 10 ponies (including the 4 original ones).
The ponies sit on a shelve in the bedroom where my boyfriend put them when we moved in the apartment. I would have left them in the moving box, however in an attempt to embarrass me (I suspect) he lined them up for a display. If somebody was to visit us, I would remove them, and viciously deny ever owning one.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
What to do, what to do?
This afternoon I attempted to understand the ideology behind al-Qaeda’s radical Islam mumbo jumbo, and I found myself scrawling through pages of Wikipedia, reading on the differences between Shiite and Sunnis, Pakistan-Afghanistan-Iran love triangle, the US gift of land to Israel that keeps on giving, etc. It is all tangled, headachy and ridiculous.
This reading only scraped the surface of the whole clutter. Looking for the right and wrong side here is impossible. The roots of these centuries-old conflicts are impossible to find. One thing is for sure, nobody is willing to turn the other cheek. The whole conflict is based on vengence for vengence for vengence.
Possibly it started when some caveman killed another caveman’s pet lizard. The first caveman proceeded to stone the lizard’s murderer. The grieving family of the killed caveman laid a cast of cement on the legs of the murderer and dropped him in the prehistoric ocean to the amusement of the prehistoric sharks. Of course, the newly-drowned caveman’s family had to retaliate by sending their Uncle Vini to the enemy’s family-owned Italian restaurant with a shot gun. And so on, and so forth…
This reading only scraped the surface of the whole clutter. Looking for the right and wrong side here is impossible. The roots of these centuries-old conflicts are impossible to find. One thing is for sure, nobody is willing to turn the other cheek. The whole conflict is based on vengence for vengence for vengence.
Possibly it started when some caveman killed another caveman’s pet lizard. The first caveman proceeded to stone the lizard’s murderer. The grieving family of the killed caveman laid a cast of cement on the legs of the murderer and dropped him in the prehistoric ocean to the amusement of the prehistoric sharks. Of course, the newly-drowned caveman’s family had to retaliate by sending their Uncle Vini to the enemy’s family-owned Italian restaurant with a shot gun. And so on, and so forth…
Thursday, August 2, 2007
How Clean Is Your House
How Clean Is Your House is a daily show on BBC America. The show, as assumed by the title, is about cleaning houses – and to make it a TV-show material, these are no ordinary pig sties, but shit-smeared, bug-crawling dungeons, whose inhabitants, have let their belongings and trash take control of their lives.
The show is hosted by two proper British spinsters, who specialize in moping and dusting. In reality they don't really clean that much, they have a team of faceless helpers who scrub, dust, and wash, while the two royal-like stars of the show support their big bottoms on high stilettos and prance around the toxic places. They pitch in occasionally to give advice on how to clean a mirror without any streaks, or how to remove mildew with readily available materials (water, soap, backing soda, etc) – all this without even breaking their long, bright-red manicures.
Most of the people whose houses they visit are plain nuts. One of them was a housewife, whose husband had died the month before she gave birth. The "child" was a 17-year-old skateboarding punk. Mom has not cleaned since the death of her spouse, but that was 17 years ago – enough grieving time?
Another nut-job was a blue-haired, approximately 250-pound 50-year old woman, who loved her babies. The babies were parokees who flew freely about the living room, and pooped everywhere. She could not force herself to cage them and instead was sitting in her poop covered sofa, watching her poop covered TV and playing her poop covered synthesizer. Yes, she was also an aspiring musician.
I don't think the reason she called the show was cleaning, but more of a publicity stunt. The minute the cleaning team left a spotless house, she let the birds fly. Her singing, mediocre at best, accompanied by her shapeless look, blue hair, and pooped covered living room was a scary sight. The British cleaning stars tried to remain calm in her presence and not appear too judgmental of her lifestyle, but you could see the horror on their proper faces.
The show is hosted by two proper British spinsters, who specialize in moping and dusting. In reality they don't really clean that much, they have a team of faceless helpers who scrub, dust, and wash, while the two royal-like stars of the show support their big bottoms on high stilettos and prance around the toxic places. They pitch in occasionally to give advice on how to clean a mirror without any streaks, or how to remove mildew with readily available materials (water, soap, backing soda, etc) – all this without even breaking their long, bright-red manicures.
Most of the people whose houses they visit are plain nuts. One of them was a housewife, whose husband had died the month before she gave birth. The "child" was a 17-year-old skateboarding punk. Mom has not cleaned since the death of her spouse, but that was 17 years ago – enough grieving time?
Another nut-job was a blue-haired, approximately 250-pound 50-year old woman, who loved her babies. The babies were parokees who flew freely about the living room, and pooped everywhere. She could not force herself to cage them and instead was sitting in her poop covered sofa, watching her poop covered TV and playing her poop covered synthesizer. Yes, she was also an aspiring musician.
I don't think the reason she called the show was cleaning, but more of a publicity stunt. The minute the cleaning team left a spotless house, she let the birds fly. Her singing, mediocre at best, accompanied by her shapeless look, blue hair, and pooped covered living room was a scary sight. The British cleaning stars tried to remain calm in her presence and not appear too judgmental of her lifestyle, but you could see the horror on their proper faces.
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