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Posted at 19 Jan 3:39 pm. 1 comment
As a member of the yuppie-twenties still clinging desperately to my hipness and youth, I’d like to claim an affinity to Twitter the way so many of my online media-savvy friends do.
Alas, unlike an orgasm, I can’t fake it.
Twitter, I used to think in horror as I waded daily through an avalanche of 140-character tweets, is the propagation and validation of mental diarrhea.
On one end of the literary scale you have books: great masterpieces of critical thinking and solid, carefully expounded stances, which take years to write. (Some of them, anyway. Twi-shite, er, Twilight, not included.)
On the other end: Twitter, which broadcasts to the world every insignificant piece of drivel that passes through your brain at the speed your fingers can type.
What Twitter, with its speed-of-type broadcasting ability, is unequivocally good for is spreading news. Or gossip. The line between the two is naturally rather thin.
Said line grows dangerously so when posters no longer even have to take five minutes to produce a reasonably researched blog post, hopefully reinforced by a couple of factual links and a picture. Just re-tweet it, bub.
Thankfully the main yardstick for a news tweet’s believability is a credible source: a link to a credible article.
And those, fortunately, don’t come with 140-character limits.
Posted at 16 Jan 9:09 am. 0 comments
A lot of the stuff on motifake is trashy crap, therefore but it wasn’t too hard to find something that tickled my funny bone.
Creationists? Evolutionists? Boom! Problem solved, too.
Yeah, we’ve all been there. But this one’s included just because the little guy’s misery looks so darn cute.
But how often do people really have anything relevant to say to each other anyway?
I don’t know if lobsters can feel pain, but I’m morally opposed to boiling anything alive. It seems a good general stance to take.
That said, heaven tastes like lobsters smothered in garlic butter sauce and wreathed in crustacean screams.
Posted at 08 Jan 7:37 pm. 0 comments
This is what I hate about taking a stand on a topic of argument: the position you find yourself in when you realize your defense has holes in it.
(Debates are overrated! I’m always right!)
Posted at 01 Jan 6:11 pm. 0 comments
I think that the dreams and hopes we nurture in our youth become, ideally, the memories we cherish in our old age.
Posted at 23 Dec 7:51 pm. 0 comments
- Men exist to be taken care of, not the other way around.
Friends. Lovers. Family.
Posted at 16 Nov 10:53 pm. 0 comments
PD was great.
Good food, watery fun, and a brilliant game called Ring of Fire/Four Queens. Subdued debates late at night when most were asleep. We only went to bed hours into the new day and woke early for the hotel breakfast, but while exhaustion was expected it was funny how throughout the entire trip we were rarely all in the same room at the same time. People kept wandering off for catnaps in ones and twos.
Maybe five years earlier, a trip like this meant staying awake for as long as humanly possible, and indiscriminately employing the use of caffeine stimulants if unconsciousness was imminent. Every ounce of fun had to be milked of the time.
Now it’s “Fuck it, I don’t care if everyone’s dangling naked from the ceiling fan, I’m going to bed.”
We’re all getting old.
Then there was the thing about alcohol. I had fun the first night, but when everyone had gone off to bed without a single head spinning from overindulgence I admit to disgust. “Drink with me,” I appealed to Tiger, and he obliged, therefore saving my night.
We had half a cup of langkau each before I stopped, deciding I had enough.
Half an hour later my buzz was completely gone and I found I was as guilty of overcaution as everyone else. Pwned, totally pwned.
—
Rules for Ring of Fire:
People sit in a circle with a shuffled deck of cards. Each open one card at a time.
Ace, 2, 3, 4 – Pick the corresponding number of people to drink a shot – or one sucker to drink all.
5 – Question card. When the person who has this card asks a question and someone answers, the answerer has to drink. If the answerer says “Fuck you,” the questioner drinks. Is nullified only when the next number 5 card is opened.
6 – Thumb on table. Person can place thumb on table (or floor) at any time. Last person to notice and follow suit drinks.
7 – Hand on head. Same as (6)
8 – Strike a pose. Same as (6)
9 – Topic card. Person who opens it picks a multiple-answer topic eg. “Name the types of coffee at Starbucks” and gives an answer, followed by the person beside him and so on. If people fail to answer in time, they drink. Questions may be as obscure as the questioner wishes.
10 – Toilet card. No one may go to the toilet without this card. It may be exchanged for a penalty, eg. finishing their drink before they are permitted to go.
Jack – Ring of Fire: Everyone starts to drink. People may only stop drinking if the person beside them puts down their glass. Pray your neighbor isn’t a sadistic bastard.
Queen – Drink to the Queen. Everyone drinks a shot.
King – The first three Kings escape unscathed. The fourth King downs his entire glass (in another variation, the contents of the glasses of the first three as well).
Posted at 10 Nov 5:46 pm. 0 comments
Pet peeve: when, in novels, the heroine’s great love dies, usually to save her… BUT she finds out she’s carrying his child.
As if that’s real consolation. If my partner died on me and left me a single mother, I tell you what I’d do. I’d take a trip to the next world and drag him back by his ear, how DARE he abandon me at a time like this. Or I’d offer an exchange, my firstborn for him. Once I’ve got him back, we can get back to making more babies.
Similarly, I must be one of the few women who don’t believe that kids should detract from the quality of romance with my partner. I want date nights, I want to be nauseatingly romantic at thirty and forty and fifty without earning a look of disgust from my womb-droppings, I want lots of hot sex.
Hey kids, I didn’t marry him just to provide you with a stable household to grow up in, you selfish, self-entitled demonspawn. I married him because I loved him and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. You were meant to make us happier, not take over our lives and consume our souls to fuel your own.
Capisce?
Excellent.
Posted at 08 Nov 5:37 pm. 0 comments
It’s really kind of depressing when you read all the stories of the other animals on petfinder.my, quiet, fearful-looking creatures with shocking histories of abuse and neglect. Then there’s my ad:
Three kittens – a ginger, a tabby, a tuxedo – to good homes for free. Friendly, frisky, curious and healthy. Firmly of the opinion that people exist to play with them. Have a foot fetish. Will pounce on anyone who stays still long enough.
They have never seen the inside of a cage and I would appreciate a respondent who intends to keep it that way.
Right about then I realized how carefree and happy these kittens are. They grew up in a shady, sunlit corner sheltered by tall, leafy potted plants. They have never had an illness other kittens suffer – cat flu, watery eyes, grossly distended bellies. They terrorized the only other cat who might have been a threat to them, our young male Oreo, who for the longest time refused to come near the house for fear of flying kittens. They played without restriction among our shoes, opened the cupboards, tried to climb the grille, slept on a tool box under the teak bench. They play all the time, really, except for short naps and the occasional snack break.
They have never known a harsh word or a person who didn’t want to stop and play with them. They have their fill of kitty kibble a few times a day, are hand-fed canned catfood and still suckle on their mother’s milk. They think the great big hands that descend from the sky were put on earth for the sole reason of giving them a tickle.
The lady who took the tuxedo kitten away seems no-nonsense but nice enough. She had been looking for three weeks for a replacement for her cat, who lived to 11. Inasmuch as possible, I think she gave all the right answers, but of course I’ve just handed my sweetest kitten over to a stranger, a baby who loved to curl herself up between my feet and pat at my leg with her paw, instead of running around as if possessed by a demon like her ginger-furred brother.
I miss her terribly.
Posted at 25 Sep 2:56 am. 0 comments
Crazystrat linked me to pretweeting, an app where you can buy words and earn virtual money if the price of your words go up. It was vaguely reminiscent of a stock market board until I had a look at the graphs, and here is the key to the entire thing:
All are absolutely regular.
This is most likely related to the fact that only US tweets are taken into account, and there are a few hours when almost everyone’s asleep. So it’s really easy to buy at the low points and sell at the high, quite unlike your average stock graph which is all over the place and liable to go anywhere the next minute.
The first 12 hours I experimented with buying a few different words. Lol. Wtf. Why. I sank to the bottom of the top 40 and was booted off a couple of times.
Then I sold them off and bought morning, kept that for over 14 hours (a little too long, but I hadn’t access to the net to sell), then bought goodnight. There’s another hour or two to go until that peaks, and I’m already #8 on the leaderboard. A timely sale and less time experimenting with words could easily have brought me into the top 5.
Now, if only they allowed us to take home our winnings in real money.
