Four Days….

Holy crap–a real blog, you say? I know, I know. It’s astounding. But I thought I’d take the last little bit of downtime I have before embarking upon a weekend of agendas and craziness and purge my thoughts on this whole marriage thing. Essentially, I’ve given up food for coffee and all I’ve wanted to do all week is crawl in a very dark, quiet space and sit, breathing evenly until I absolutely have to emerge.

All week I’ve been psyching myself up for the worst possible things that can happen, which includes barfing at the alter, spilling pasta sauce on my dress, getting a migraine during the ceremony, ripping my dress at the reception, not having enough seating or food for everyone, the DJ not showing up…..you name it. It’s not marrying Forth that I fear, of course–it’s 173 sets of eyes boring into my being for an entire day. Simply put, this wedding weekend will espouse some of my least favorite things: being the center of attention, entertaining a large number of people, making decisions, and gatherings of ten or more. When all of this comes together, I’m afraid I’m going to freak. My mind will self-destruct and I’ll get some sort of a contained anxiety attack. I broke out in hives for the first time last semester while teaching a lesson in my fiction workshop for an hour. Let’s hope this whole ceremony thing won’t be so rashy. Perhaps this will be the first wedding in which the maid of honor holds a puke bucket as well as the bride’s bouquet? If only my mother was on Prozac….I could snag some from her and both our lives would be considerably easier.

Love these family and friends as I might–I can only take so much….eventfulness. The people to talk to, places to be, a schedule to follow, things to take care of, appearances to keep—I don’t handle this stuff well. The way I see it, I’ll be sort of like a grizzly bear encountered in the woods by unsuspecting hikers: don’t make any sudden movements, speak in calm, quiet tones, and back away slowly before I rip your face off. Or, as Forth put it, I’m the crazy dude with the shotgun ready to blow the heads off a group of innocent bystanders. Something like that.

I’m extremely socially retarded in the first place—I can’t imagine how awkward and maladjusted I’ll be as a bride.

Another extremely narcissistic fear I have is bad eyeshadow. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’m going for the darker eye thing and whenever I do that, it usually all smudges and bleeds into the bags under my eyes and I look like I’m all trashy and strung out—-and that’s when I’m NOT drinking. As I’ve mentioned before, since I’m not feeling very intelligent these days, I make it a point to try and look good. So now that the day when I have to look THE BEST EVER is upon us, the pressure is on. Today I gave into my vanity and went to Sephora for a $38 smoky eye kit with supposedly smudge and crease resistant colors, a very detailed how-to manual, and professional tools. Plus it’s all compact enough to stash in my purse for touch-ups. We’ll see what happens though. Perhaps the professionally done hair and big white dress will help?

Wish us luck, and Forth and Back will get back to you soon as this shit is over…..as a married couple with absolutely no plans for children within the next 5-10 years.

**Back.

You May Have Missed It

You were asleep.  It’s alright, so was I.  When I got in my car at 6.30 the talk was of a speech that happened while the nation slept.  It is mostly our habit to ignore anything that doesn’t happen within the time zones that encompass our nation but this time it happened to make the radio and I happened to hear it on NPR.

The president spoke in Cairo a little over a week ago and I heard it a few hours later on the radio.  The portions that I heard were interesting, and well thought out but the one section that struck me was this:

Indeed, none of us should tolerate these extremists.  They have killed in many countries.  They have killed people of different faiths — but more than any other, they have killed Muslims.  Their actions are irreconcilable with the rights of human beings, the progress of nations, and with Islam.

This line struck me for many reasons but by far the most profound thought I had was I’ve never thought of it like that before. If there is one point that I’d wish people every where to hear, it is that point.  I have had a little less than a dozen Muslim students pass through my classroom door and, other than the hajib they wear as a choice, they are as diverse as their peers.  Some are quiet, some are leaders, some are thoughtful, and some don’t participate in class.  I’ve always tried to reconcile the horrors of the world by thinking that not all Muslims are the same but I’ve never quite thought what the president said in Cairo.

Of all the things I want people to remember is that these extremists – these terrorists – aren’t waging war on America or the western world, they are waging a war on those who disagree with them, on the good and the sensible who wish for peace and prosperity.  These people are Christian and Jewish, Hindu and Buddhist, Muslim and Atheist, but mostly they are people.

I just wish it was that simple…

~Forth

Hiatus.

Angry or indifferent about the lack of posts here? Read Cup of Angst!

Oodles of fun and bitchiness coming to you at least weekly by yours truly,

**Back/Demitasse.

I got my swim trunks, and my flippy floppies.

Echoing Forth’s sentiments, we are extremely pressed for time nowadays, and blogging is rare. Of course I know more of you like Cup of Angst anyway, so I don’t feel too bad about that. However, we DID have time to jet out to Los Angeles for my cousin’s wedding, which was pretty awesome. First of all…..WE SAW DOLPHINS. And it was amazing…well, sort of…from what we could see. Forth and I knew all about what they were doing thanks to this lovely documentary:

Naturally while we were in California, I was hoping to run into John Mayer, but unfortunately had no such luck. According to Twitter though, he was in Santa Monica during the last day we were in Cali. Speaking of celebrities that Twitter…..and I’ve Twit-stalked the likes of Nicole Richie, Taylor Swift, Joel Madden, Ashlee Simpson, Pete Wentz, Jessica Simpson, the new Disney Channel sluts, and etc….and I have to say, they seem more normal when you keep up with the inane drivel of their everyday lives. Sure you’ve got them jetting off to Paris and St. Lucia and meeting Mark Hoppus for lunch at the Ivy on Tuesday afternoon, but once you put that behind you….they’re just overprivileged, untalented kids like us.

Another novelty Forth and I stumbled upon while cruising the area outside our hotel was:

Yes. In-N-Out Burger: the White Castle of the West. I like to jump right into these regional gemstones when I come upon them, so Forth and I made sure we stopped in for lunch on Saturday afternoon. First of all, there was a freaking line out the door. Have you ever seen that happen at your local Mickey D’s? I didn’t think so. Second of all, the drive thru line looked to be about a 15 minute wait. It was so bad, there was even an In-N-Out bitch employee outside taking orders at people’s cars. Intense, eh? Certainly makes the name of the joint sound like bullshit–I’ve never waited so long for a burger. Anyways, once inside, we saw the goodness people had been talking about. First of all, the menu is based on the adage, “Keep it simple, stupid.” What can you order, you ask? A burger, a cheeseburger, or a “Double Double.” Of course there is also soda, fries, and a small shake selection, but that’s IT. No confusing clubs or grilled chicken or any of that useless crap. Nah, just gimme a damn burger. The interior is all retro palm tree and of course the workers (little effers who make about $2 more than I do at my miserable coffee job!…my relatives kept reminding me about the cost of living. WI vs. CA? Bitch, please.) have to wear ridiculous hats and ’50’s style outfits, but that’s the choice they make. It would appear the only nod to modernity they’ve adopted is the soda machine and notion of “combo meals.” Anyways, another shocker that Forth pointed out was the break in the Latino workforce inside the confines of In-N-Out. Everywhere you go in Los Angeles, there are Mexicans doing the jobs nobody else wants to. Mowing the lawn, pumping gas, waiting tables–but nope…not at In-N-Out. Perhaps it’s the CEO’s fondness for the “Leave It to Beaver” lifestyle, but all the kids working the grill were Aryan-looking Abercrombie models in-training. Tan lines and all.

As for the food….In-N-Out did not disappoint (that’s what she said?). The burger (we both ordered Double Double meals) was absolutely delicious. Forth nearly kept the wrapper in came in, which proclaimed that the beef was never frozen, they’d been using non-trans fat oil for years, etc. However, the fries left something to be desired. If one could pair an In-N-Out burger with Mickey D’s fries, it would be like fastfoodgasm in a bag. Oh, if only.

But of course the experience ended and we came home to 40-degree fog and drizzle and my insides turned black and died for awhile, but we got over it. Anyways, we apologize again for the lack of bloggage, but today was my last day of undergrad classes EVER, and next week the security blanket of being able to call myself a student will be yanked from beneath my tepid form, so needless to say…..I’m gonna have some time on my hands.

**Back.

P.S–Here is a bonus photo of Forth’s junk, detailing the damage done after he got raped by the Pacific. The sea was angry that day, my friends…and apparently wanted a piece of the family jewels.

Far Far Away

So, I don’t get the oportunity to blog much anymore.  I plan on doing it a bit more once life and work have calmed down but since that is a month away I thought I’d add a video to make you think about guns and the West Wing.  I’m all for letting people hunt, I’m just not in favor of an unrestricte right to bear a device that could take my life with the same amount of effort it requires a person to order from Amazon.

~Forth

A failburger with cheese.

Hi. My name is Back, and I am braindead.

I think the level of mental restlessness associated with senioritis has surpassed the mark of normalcy and spiraled into a fury that subsequently burnt out the motor of my mind. Thus, my head is full of cold metal and stagnant oil and snapped belts–heavy and useless. I Twitter in class, have only enough care to write blogs–not the fiction my degree denotes, and cannot wrap my waning consciousness around anything besides Rock of Love Bus and Reno 911. Getting the laundry done is now my definition of a major success.

I wander around pouring people coffee and sweeping floors and spend all the money I don’t make on stuff I don’t need and waste too much time on my hair because when there’s nothing going on inside the head, the outside might as well look good.

If the glass is half empty, it is probably because it was once full of Jameson and the other half is now swirling about my belly and veins, daring you to try and have a political debate over THIS blog entry. Bwahaha.

Stay tuned for next week’s commentary on sunshine, kitties, rainbows, and children jump roping in fields of daisies.

**Back.

Iowa does it again!

Awhile back I wrote a post praising Iowa for banning smoking in bars and restaurants and making fun of them a bit while making fun of Wisconsin as well for not following Iowa’s lead.  I grew up on the border of Iowa and Illinois – Back grew up on the Iowa-Wisconsin border - and in my time I’ve done a good bit of making fun of Iowa, I mean, it’s IOWA?!?  But they continue to astound me.  Having seen Milk and really being taken by the story, I care a bit more about this subject then I might have prior.

Then I saw this exchange between Jon Stewart and Mike Huckabee and thought Stewart nailed it for me.  Seriously, watch it.  I had intended to write a post on it but I never got around to it.

Then Iowa of all places goes and does it again.  This story from their Senate majority leader about his 20 year old daughter says it all:

In my mind they didn’t legalize gay marriage so much as strike down a law that disenfranchised Iowa citizens.  Unfortunately, polls seem to point to the topic as polarizing in Iowa – it’s polarizing everywhere – and while it seems like it is secure for 4 to 5 years it will really depend upon a stable Democratic majority. /sigh

~Forth

UPDATE: The Bearded Man linked this in his comment below but I love this scene (as he knows) and I love this show (he knows this, too).

Just DANCE Dance dance….

Last Saturday night was the heralded sophomore “Spring Fling” at Forth’s school. This year he was “lucky” enough to organize the event and I was “lucky” enough to volunteer to attend.

The previous evening, Forth brought home a flashlight/breathalyzer to use at the dance, should we suspect any of the underage kids to be a little crunk. He held it in front of my face for awhile as I was enjoying a whiskey and coke and playing Guitar Hero, wondering why on earth he needed a gigantic flashlight. It then flashed red and beeped and apparently I failed the high school drunk test. We didn’t need to use it at the dance, unfortunately, but it was extremely amusing nonetheless.

Unlike the Halloween dance, the majority of sophomore boys and girls danced in fun, jumpy groups with their short sparkly dresses and those’ stupid Kanye-flippy-windowshade sunglasses, instead of in these little intimate boy/girl combos. Of course, the girls are still stick-thin and unappreciative of their perfect, tiny bodies, bytheway. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if they don’t watch it, they’re not going to be able to wear those short skirts for long. At least some of us realize this. *Sniff.

However, there were two couples in particular that needed to be watched, which actually made me feel pretty sorry for the duos. Like, how hard up are they for alone time that they literally need to suck face in the middle of a group of adolescents with adults peering in on their every move?

After watching these two couples steal kisses, then proceed to full on make-out, Forth reluctantly walked over to one of them and tapped the girl on the shoulder, warning them that they had better not make him disrupt them again. I would have rather used more force, wit, and embarrassment in the situation but, of course I wasn’t in charge. Later on, I formulated a method of punishment for the the wayward harlequins and scheming lotharios: bringing in their parents and instating a rule that for every kiss, ass grab, slip of the tongue, pelvic grind, or whatever else the two kids performed with each other, they’d have to sit and watch their parents do the very same–I mean, how gross could that possibly be for a 16 year-old?

On the other hand, after experiencing this week’s entire Hip/Hop/Rap Top-50 list, I realized how cruel it is that all the DJ plays are these songs that do nothing but promote the fiery magnetism of junk-to-junk friction. It’s like three and a half hours of rhythmically Ebonicized taunts: “Grab the bottle of Bacardi and tap that ass, but don’t–because you shall receive detention.” Bwhahahaha.

In other news, if I ever do another dance again–which I doubt (not one that I have to wait for Forth to pick up after anyway)–I will start confiscating every feather boa and said pair of stupid slatted sunglasses that the kids bring in. It’s dumb. It’s tired. And something else too–why do they save all the “white music” for the end? It’s all rap and R&B until things wind down, and then it’s Zac Efron Lady GaGa and Taylor Swift. On the same note, why are all the slow songs at least 10 years old? The two slow songs I remember were Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” (1998) and the song that needs to die a slow, slow, agonizing, and possibly deformative death: Edwin Mcain’s “I’ll Be” (1997). These kids were what, four or five years old when those came out? There has to be at least 20 quality slow-dance songs since then to trump that crap.

Though Forth didn’t slip any Kings of Leon onto the night’s playlist for me, the DJ did bust out my beloved Flo Rida, and I wanted nothing but to jump into the mass of pubescence and rock along with them, but unfortunately that wouldn’t have been socially acceptable. Instead, I wallflowered as usual and continued to play the role of fascinating anomoly–even still I’m unsure as to when girls are going to quit being so preoccupied with Mr. Forth’s bethrothed. Honestly–just move along, ladies. Nothing to see here.

**Back.

I Got Nothin’

The last month has been crazy with the onset of lacrosse season and the perpetual grading of papers, so I leave you with a bit of late night TV to enjoy.

As well as the reverb:

~Forth

Facebook for Dummies.

What the hell is up with all the extra-annoying Facebook crap lately? Seriously—first it was that stupid 25 Things note, then all the forward-esque notes about your spouse and being a mom and memories and blah blah. Now it’s that stupid tag-your-friend picture with all the little colorful characters. Oh, Brad is the “tiny, dangerous one.” How flipping cute. With all this ridiculousness in mind, I’ve decided to make a list of the top 10 most annoying Facebook statuses.

10.) The Countdown—Simple enough: “Back is **8 DAYS!!!!**”

Uh…8 days till what? Do I care? Probably not. Do I know you well enough to care? Probably less likely than caring. Do you need to find something else to do besides count your days? Probably. Am I guilty of posting such a status in the past? *Sniff. Yes.

9.) The Drunken Proclamation—“Back is totalllllly waaastedgh you guysshh omgz.”

Wow, look at you. You’re drinking. You’re so clever that you found a way to get your hands on some booze even though you’re NOT 21. You’re so cool. SO awesome. Have I done this one too? Probably. In not so many words.

8.) The Song Lyric—“Back is I won’t tell you that I love you kiss or hug you cuz I’m bluffin’ with my muffin.”

Shut up. We already know you have shitty taste in music thanks to your profile.

7.) The Home-From-Work Announcement—“Back is relaxing after a busy day at work.”

Yep, you and like, 275 million other Americans. Pour yourself a glass of pinot noir, turn on Dancing With the Stars, and go to bed at 9 p.m. Way to live the dream.

6.) The Cliché Catchphrase—“Back shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.”

How original. Before that were you Bond. James Bond? Or did you have a case of the Mondays? A motor-boatin’ sonofabitch? Do you love lamp? Have sweet nunchuck skills? Can you haz cheezburger? Enough. Please?

5.) The Verb—“Back is.”

This is just like a stupid attempt to seem philosophical when really you were changing your status and left it blank by accident. The end.

4.) The McLovin’—“Back is loving this slice of cheesecake.”

You’re loving Twilight. You’re loving Brad Pitt. You’re loving these new shoes. Okay, cool: then try and find a more creative way to say it, preferably one that doesn’t sound so sorostitute.

3.) The Weather—“Back is FREEZING and has had it with all this snow.”

Yes, we all are. Congratulations on choosing to comment on the single most clichéd topic of conversation ever. Get over it, or move to Florida.

2.) The ♥ —“Back ♥s her girls.”

No. Just…….no.

1.) The Mommy Update—“Back is sad that her Spawn has a cold “

Awesome—someone had sex with you, and you gave birth. I’m sure your kids are super-duper and it’s cute to hear about them once in awhile, but seriously. We truly don’t care if your little ejaculation slept 8 hours, is onto eating real cereal, or spit up all over their Target onesie. It’s like waving a virtual wallet-full of kiddie pictures in front of our faces ALL THE TIME.

Okay, so I dumped in an extra tablespoon or two of Bitch, but that’s what stress will do to a person.

Fin.

**Back.