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Friday, September 28, 2007

Golly Gee, I Believe in Democracy Again!




The following is a video of Republican San Diego Mayor Jerry Sanders explaining that he's changed his mind, and has decided to back same-sex marriage because his daughter is a lesbian.





I really give this guy a lot of credit, because usually Republican politicians with gay family members say they love them but then vote against giving them the basic rights any trailer trash from Arkansas gets from birth. I'm lookin' at you, Dick Cheney.

The idea of comparing civil unions to "separate but equal" is actually the most accurate description of it that I've ever heard. Kudos to you, Sanders.


So after this touching speech, we've got conservative bigots running around, saying that Sanders is breaking his campaign promises. OMG, a politician breaking his campaign promises??! How unusual.

Don't worry, guys. We'll get through it.

And hey... you think his daughter's single?

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Tuesday, September 25, 2007

There are No Gay People in Iran







So by now I'm assuming that everyone knows about all of the controversy surrounding Iranian president
Ahmadinejad speaking at Columbia University this evening.

Apparently, among his crazy statements, he said that there are "no gay people in Iran." The above clip is long, but he says it about 3 and a half minutes in. Watch it so you can hear the best part. Everyone laughing.

Yeah, man, there's no gay people in Iran. Just like there are no gay people at Marist (AKA They're all closet cases, for you slow ones).

Enddddddddddddd scene.

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Monday, September 24, 2007

It's Britney, Bitch



College parties tend to get a little dull after awhile (how many keg stands can you do?), so in an effort to spice things up, you have the ever-hilarious theme parties. Some are better than others, but if I have to go to one more goddamn 80's party, I'm going to scream. It's always the 80's and the 70's. What about the 30's? How about a Great Depression themed party? Stay tuned for that. Gabe already called the guy who shot himself after he lost all of his money in the stock market crash, and I'm gonna be the lady waiting in line at the soup kitchen. But I'm getting ahead of myself. One drunken disaster at a time.

So this past weekend, we had a "Dress as Your Favorite Celebrity- Dead or Alive" party. And let me just say that even though everyone says Britney Spears's career is over, we had a shitload of Britneys at the party. Even though maybe that's just because she's really easy to make fun of, I still think that means that Britney's more popular than ever (LEAVE BRITNEY SPEARS ALONE).

The party was star-studded, with such celebrity trainwrecks like Britney Spears, Amy Winehouse, Justin Timberlake, Zac Efron, Eminem, Pete Doherty (whoever that is), and of course, Flava Flav.

Here are the highlights:

Zac Efron, flashing those pearly whites.

Justin Timberlake and Britney making up once and for all.

Timberlake bringing sexy back.

Britney and K-Fed Reunited.

Zac, Flava Flav, Pete, and Britney.

JT, Eminem, Pete, Flava Flav, and Britney.

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Sunday, September 23, 2007

I Will Never Change My Mind Again



So it's getting to the point where both my liver and my wallet are pleading with me to stay in and go to bed early for once.

On Thursday night, I had every intention of doing exactly that, but then I found myself sitting there, reading everyone's away messages, and getting all woe is me that everyone was going out. So when all of my housemates got home and were like "WOOOOOO WE'RE GOING TO DARBY'S," I just had to go.

When I finally get to the bar, I couldn't believe everyone's reaction. People yelled. They screamed. They were OUTRAGED. A friend took my hat off of my head and threw it on the floor. How dare I say that I was going to stay in and then reverse my decision?

It's a little spotty (because of the cocktails of course), but I think I recall talking to Jeff about how it caused such a ruckus that it might be a good idea to do it again. You know, surprise everyone. In a fabulous evening gown. Considering my usual attire of jeans and a polo shirt, I'm pretty sure everyone would freak out.

But all in all, ch-ch-ch-changing my mind was a good thing because I think I saw everyone I've ever met in my life there. Seriously, Darby's is like one big "This is Your Life" montage. People you love, people you hate, people who you always talk to when you're drunk but can never remember their name sober- it was great.

What wasn't great was coming out of the bathroom stall and trying to wash my hands, only to discover that both sinks were covered in blood. Some girl cut her hand or something. Mmmm... sanitary.

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Wednesday, September 19, 2007

American National Goverment= 8th Grade Social Studies



As you can see from my previous entry, I decided that I would save up some of my core classes for senior year. The drawing to the left pretty much sums up my experience. I'm the idiot senior in the back of the class with the dunce cap on, surrounded by bright-eyed, bushy-tailed freshmen. While this might seem like it's a funny situation, seriously, I'm dying out here.

My American National Government class is legit like 8th grade Social Studies. Despite my professor's brilliance, the material is something I've gone over about 920339 times.

Ben Franklin? Yeah, I know about him. What is the main cause of the American Revolution? You're kidding, right? Why am I in this class?

Thank God for a liberal arts education, man.

Without it, there's no way I'd be able to go out every night, sleep through all of my classes, and still be on the Dean's List every semester.

Note: 36% of Marist students are on the Dean's List with a grade point average of 3.4 or above.

90% of Marist Dean's List students were at the bar last night.

True fact.

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Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The Lesbian Life of Ryan

So I've recently just watched an episode of MTV's new series, The Life of Ryan. It's a "reality" show following the life of Ryan Sheckler, the youngest professional skateboarder ever. Even though he's got tons of fame and fortune, deep down Ryan's really just like any other teenage boy -- just looking for the right girl and wanting to spend time with his buddies. Or at least that's what MTV says. Dude, he just wants to go to the prom, man! In watching this vapid show, I learned two things: 1. I wish that my parents cared about me enough to pimp me out from my infancy so I could be rich by the age of seventeen. 2. Ryan looks exactly like a girl I used to have a crush on. So this raises an interesting question. Does Ryan really look like a cute lesbian, or am I just a pedophile? The world will never know.

PS: I'm not a pedophile.

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Sunday, September 16, 2007

The Night I Took a Ride on Santa's Sleigh



So Friday night, I'm doing my usual, (ie: stumbling out of a bar, searching for a cab) and I come upon a van that looks like the illegal vans that so many Marist students frequent.


Why illegal vans? Because in Po-town, it's a known fact that you will die of old age waiting for Yellow Cab or AAA to come and pick you up. They have to be "dispatched." They have to "write our information down" and "run the meter." Thus, I prefer to skip all of that taxi mumbo jumbo and go with the sketchball who has the stick-on letters on his mini van window. You don't have to call a dispatcher, because you're just calling some guy's cell phone.

Because of this, my drunk mind is programmed to think that every van, no matter what make or model is a potential ride home. This is not a good thing.

After getting into a van with a driver who looked exactly like Santa Claus, he told us some long-winded story about how he is not a cab driver, rather a driver of a "safe van." Right, just like John Wayne Gacy's crawl space was a "safe crawl space." Basically, he drives around drunk people for free. However, he told us that "tips and donations are appreciated."

So we pull up to my house and all of my jerk friends hop out of the van, because hey, safe van = free van, right? Well, I wanted to give Ol' Saint Nick something for his troubles, so I gave him a twenty, in hopes of getting money back. Instead, I was told that I am "very generous."

So I was like, "Ummmmm... can I at least get $10 back?" Santa gave me 10 back. I paid $10 for a 2 minute ride. Awesome.

Moral of the story, as my friend Gabe put it, ever so eloquently: never trust anyone with a beard.

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Saturday, September 15, 2007

"It's Pat" Rises Again!



I know that this has been posted everywhere, but it was too good not to have some prime real estate on my blog:





All I have to say is I've never seen a more hilarious display of androgyny since "It's Pat" on Saturday Night Live. Well done, weirdo. Well done.

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Thursday, September 13, 2007

He Just Wants to Find Someone to Kick it With



So it turns out that Flava Flav is STILL trying to find his true love after two long, hilarious seasons. After two years, Flav still couldn't find a woman that he could kick it with.

I personally hope that he never finds a woman good enough to be his boo, because Flavor of Love is seriously one of the most entertaining shows I've ever watched. So much so that I dressed up as him for Halloween. I was really popular, too, until a black kid showed up dressed as him. Whatever.

So for this season,
you can cast the next crop of ho's who will head over to Flav's (ie: MTV's) mansion so he can find someone who will be real. Have you ever noticed how often "being real" is brought up on that show? Dammit, people! The man just wants to find someone who's real! Why can't you bitches be real? Damnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

The videos are hysterical. If you're ever feeling bad about yourself, head on over to the Flavor of Love 3 Casting site and look at the brigade of jackasses applying for the show. This is gonna be one interesting season, fo sho.

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Tuesday, September 11, 2007

The Taxonomy of Keg Parties


The social dynamics of drunk college kids is a complex web of drunken debauchery.

After all, only in the darkness of a bar is it considered acceptable to rub your ass on a stranger's crotch all night and then inhale an entire basket of Irish nachos in .45 seconds.

However, every now and then, new social trends emerge. On Friday night, at a party, a friend and I were standing in a hallway, drinking beer and conversating. Usually, if you'd like to get by some people for whatever reason, you'd say "excuse me." In a situation where the music is too loud to hear words, a lightly placed hand on a shoulder suggests to everyone that they should get the hell out of the way.

But apparently, a new social trend has emerged that my friend and I were unaware of. A girl wanted to get by us, but instead of the aforementioned "excuse me" or hand on the shoulder, she punched my friend in the boob.

Nothing says "get out of my fucking way" more strongly, I guess, but seriously? While I might enjoy the caress of another female, I'm pretty sure friend didn't want her boob touched by anyone but a really drunk boy.

Will the boob-punch catch on? This homo sure hopes so.

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Monday, September 10, 2007

I Wish What Happened in Vegas Stayed in Vegas



Has anyone read that the executive producer of the VMAs committed suicide? Because I'm pretty sure that it happened, or rather, should have happened, after the travesty that happened in the first fifteen minutes of the show.


It seemed to me that every person in the Palms Hotel in Vegas took an overdose of awkward pills before going on stage.

First of all, Britney's "big comeback?" TERRIBLE. Didn't she used to be a good dancer? And after years of lip-syncing don't you think she would have perfected it by now? Also, walking around the stage and having people grope you doesn't equal dancing.

I'm pretty sure Brit just watched Music & Lyrics and decided to copy the parody of herself. Observe:

From Music & Lyrics:



From Britney's VMA's Performance:




Someone get the girl a boa constrictor for Christ's sake. Maybe it'll swallow her and put her out of her misery.

Moral of the story: The only part of the show worth watching was when Sarah Silverman said this:

"Is Amy Winehouse Jewish? Because if she's not, someone should tell her face."

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I'm in Love with Ben Lee




You'll remember from my previous entry that I am in love with the sneak preview of songs from Ben Lee's brand new upcoming release, Ripe. Since then, I've downloaded the Ripe EP and was able to listen to 3 songs from the album. Simply put, they're awesome. They're my ringtones, and they've been in my head all the time, second only to "Big Girls Don't Cry" (I HOPE YOU KNOWWWW, I HOPE YOU KNOWWWW). So imagine my surprise when I was walking down the hall in Lowell Thomas and I see a flyer for a FREE Ben Lee concert, right here at Marist College. How could it be? Marist actually got someone good, and it's free? Awesome.

So we headed down to the Nelly G for Ben Lee's performance, and it was nothing short of brilliant. Ben is so genuinely funny that it's hard to determine whether you're watching a concert or a stand up comedy show. Playing with an acoustic guitar and one guy backing him with an unplugged bass or awkwardly plunking on piano keys, this was not a powerhouse band. Of course, that's not Ben Lee's style. However, that didn't stop him from jumping from a stool and screaming "ROCK 'N' ROLL!" Ben's charm is that he's dorky, but endearing. After the stool-jump, he told a story about how he played that song for Tom Hanks's and his production company, Playtone, and when he jumped on the desk, he heard a crashing and breaking sound. It was one of Tom Hanks's Oscars. Wah wah. Good thing Tom's got so many of them, right, right?

So I taped a bunch of the songs, but I held the camera lengthwise like an idiot, so it's sideways, but the song is still good, so check it out:





He played old and new favorites, stuff from my favorite Awake is the New Sleep and new songs I'd never heard, like the amazing "What Would Jay-Z Do?" The show ended, and that's when Ben Lee decided to do something a little different for the encore. He invited every person in the audience back to his dressing room. Bob Lynch must have had an anuerism, and Michelle Fischetti (Williams) was yelling about fire code violations. But it was amazing. 50 of us crowded into a tiny dressing room, with Ben Lee singing "We're All in This Together." How appropriate.

Sideways again, oh well:







He came out into the hall and I stood about 12 inches away from him as he sang the song that will pretty much define my senior year, the title track of his new album. As always, the lyrics are the best part of Ben Lee's music, and when he sang "You made me wait/but now I'm touching your leg" I reached out and touched his leg, because he was just so damn close. He is the only male musician who has ever turned me into a groupie.

The rest of the lyrics of the song go like this:

"And all you people are the heroes I've known
We're staring off the edge, into the unknown
We are not there yet, but we cannot go home
So we cry and we sing, yeah, I remember everything
How for once in our lives
We saw what we wanted and took a bite
We picked the fruit from the tree and it was ripe"

Ripe indeed.

Ripe goes on sale September 18, and Ben had this to say about it:






I say fuck charity. Do yourself a favor and buy the CD.

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Friday, September 07, 2007

Family Fun Night



Back in high school, my parents saw a stupid commercial on TV from the good people at Hasbro who were trying to sell their board games via a marketing gimmick called "Family Game Night."

It was a good strategy, really. Hasbro knew that their cardboard and egg timers couldn't compete with THE INTERNET and VIDEOGAMES, so they figured they'd go for the guilt trip.

In an age where the TV is our children's babysitter, the McDonald's drive-thru is an acceptable restaurant for dinner, and you only have time to put your make up on in the car, I think all parents probably feel a little guilty about handing their kid a Gameboy and hoping for some peace and quiet for an hour or so. This is why "Family Game Night" was so brilliant.

Unfortunately, for children between the ages of 11 to 17, hanging out with your family is soooo
lame, so "Family Game Night" is quite the awful experience. Fast-forward a few years (after you move out, usually) and hanging out with your family doesn't seem as bad as it used to be. You actually find yourself pulling out the old Scattergories box and suggesting a game or two.

I usually kill in Scattergories, but I always lose to my mom. I've never won a game against her. And because I'm ridiculously competitive, this is a problem for me. So, I start doing what my brother does: make up ridiculous answers. I didn't lose because you're better than me, I lost because I didn't really care.


Here are some of the answers that made my mom yell at us:


Things that are Sticky: transvestite's testicles (double points!) (me)

Words Associated With Money: anus (my brother)


Things Found in a Desk: alcohol (my brother and I both put this down)

Things You Shout: ERECTION! (me)


Things You Replace: enemas (me)


Unfortunately for my mother, "Family Game Night" will never be the same as it used to be.

It's Been a Rough Week



If you were to say to me, "hey, Amanda- how's your first week of senior year going?" I'd respond by shoving this into your face, and say "I wish I could remember."



In short, it's been fucking fantastic.

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Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Adult Students: You're Ridiculous




After three years of college, I've seen a lot of professors pretend that stupid students' comments and anywhere near the realm of intelligent or relevant, just because they're happy that someone woke up from their nap to answer a question.

This being said, however, there's nothing more hysterical than watching a professor try to humor adult students who clearly have no idea what's going on.


Today I'm in my religion class, which apparently is going to cover Native American religion in depth (funny, all I think of when I think "Native American" is cheap gas, legal gambling, and that lady with the braids who would come to my elementary school every year and help us build dreamcatchers). Two adult students walk in.

At first, I thought they were cute. One was carrying a messenger bag with the Marist insignia on it, and the other was carrying a bright red Marist folder. Both were wearing pantsuits and heels. Essentially, they made me miss my mom.
But then my professor told a story.

The gist of it was basically that a little Native American boy was starving to death in his teepee because his father is dead and can't hunt for Buffalo. Another little boy, who apparently was a little chunky, came into the teepee and sang a song. The song went something along the lines of this: "Hungry Little Boy, Hungry Little Boy. He might eat me. He might eat me. Heya. Heya." So this happens for four days and then finally the starving little boy stabbed the chunky serenader in the stomach. Instead of blood, corn came out of his stomach and the little boy ate the corn throughout the winter and didn't starve.

Maybe I'm some sort of genius, but I thought it was pretty obvious that the chunkster was supposed to represent God. So one of the adult students shouts "I'M SO CONFUSED? WHO IS THE KID SUPPOSED TO REPRESENT? IS HE HALLUCINATING BECAUSE HE'S SO HUNGRY? I JUST DON'T GET IT?"

You're a moron, lady. Go make your kids dinner or something.

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Monday, September 03, 2007

I Love Irony



The National Enquirer reported last week that Rihanna's father, Ronald Fenty, is broke and sells umbrellas and other crap out of the back of his car. You can stand under Rihanna's father's umbrella-ella for probably about five dolla-alla-alla-alla, hey, hey...



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Sunday, September 02, 2007

Good Time for a Bad Attitude




I moved back into Marist yesterday for my last year of college. Freshman move-in is today, and I have an extreme urge to go over to the freshman dorms and tell them they're going to be miserable for at least a few weeks. And laugh. LAUGH IN THEIR FACES. You seriously couldn't pay me to go back to the first few weeks of freshman year. And it wasn't even like I was having an awful time, I was having a good time, but all of a sudden I'd be laughing with my "friends" and then the laughs would turn into sobs.

There are obviously huge differences between freshmen and seniors, but the small differences are my favorite. When you're an upperclassman, you watch a movie with friends. Your away message is probably "movie" or "out." Freshman year, you watch a movie with friends but you can't start the movie until you have a photo shoot and post the pictures on Facebook so you can show the world that you're having SO MUCH FUN AT COLLEGE WITH 15 OF YOUR NEW BEST FRIENDS. Your away message is "movie with Ashley, Marissa, Kelly, Katie, Julie, Sarah, and John!" Pshhhh... fuck freshman year.

Anyway, opening night senior year was a huge success, and in saying "huge success" I mean that I spent a lot of quality time driving the porcelain bus both last night and this morning. I guess some things never change. The above picture is my motto for the year, because I just don't care anymore. My internship last semester taught me more than I had learned in 3 years of classes, which means that classes are pretty low on my list of "things I give a shit about."

Numbers 1 and 2 are drinking and friends, and I'm not going to say which is which.


Cheers.

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An Excerpt from Paula Zahn's Diary



Dear Diary,

Just because I'm 47-years-old doesn't mean that I should have grown out of my desire to write in a diary about my dreamy boyfriend with whom I'm having an adulterous affair.

Some people may say that I'm stupid for writing everything down for my husband and teenage daughter to read, but diary, you had a lock on you!

Okay, we all learned how to pick diary locks in fifth grade but I just can't believe that my husband would pick the lock, read you, and then keep you for ransom (ie: evidence in our upcoming divorce).

Well, whatever happens, I need to keep writing my feelings. Isn't Patrick Dempsey sooooo dreamy? One day, I'll go to Hollywood and find him and marry him and I'll be Mrs. Paula Dempsey. That sounds really good!!! OMG, I gotta go, my producer's yelling that I'm on the air in 5.


I'll write more l8er.


Love,

Paula

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