I never have been or never will be Shanequa, so yeah, QUIT CALLING!

Why is it that when someone calls you, and it’s a wrong number, and you TELL them it’s a wrong number, they don’t believe you. It’s like they think your lying or something.

Are you sure this isn’t Shanequa?

Look dude, I’m pretty sure I’d remember if my name was Shanequa. Not to mention the fact that I’m a guy.

And then they text you.

Hey girl, what are you doing to night?

Right, like that’s going to fool you. Like you don’t know that it’s the same person who just called you. Like, if I really WAS Shanequa, then the texting technique would fool me and I would be a stupid bonehead who would not get the connection between the call and the text.

I want to speak to Shanqua. WHY AREN’T YOU SHANEQUA!!!

And then they get all pissed and defensive.

I HATE PHONES!

or maybe it’s just the people calling and not actually the phone. Not sure.

Anyway…

How can I convince this person that I am not Shanequa, or that I am not some person who has Shandqua’s phone. Like we’re at the club or something and someone calls and Shanequa goes, “Oh damn! It’s blah blah. I don’t want to talk to him. Here, take my phone and pretend that they got the wrong number”.

Anyhow, that’s what I’m thnking that the person on the other end of the line is thinking.

And then they go, “Who is this”.

That doesn’t matter. You got the wrong stinkin’ number. Don’t call or text me again. You goofed up. This ain’t Shanequa’s phone. Accept that fact and move on. I can’t make this Shanequa person materialize in front of me because I HAVE NO FRICKIN’ CLUE WHO THAT EVEN IS!

And then 2 days later they text you again.

“Hey girl, what’s up”?

Really dumbass? You’re that stupid?

Sometimes I feel like pretending that I AM Shanequa. I fell like spouting lurid sex talk. I feel like making up a bunch of shit. I fell like saying, Oh I’m sorry, Shanequa died.”

But, I don’t. I just keep feeling the angst over not being able to convince this person on the other end of the line that I AM NOT MOFO SHANEQUA. And that I am not hiding her.

Sometimes I fell like flushing the damn phone down the toilet.

Night of the Living Blog

I haven’t posted on this blog in hyperbolically forever. Why? Because that’s how I roll, bitches. It’s called blogging Alzheimers. Start a blog. Be all exited about it. Rabidly post for a while. Get a few comments telling you that you’re an idiot. Delete the posts because you feel like like a sap. Do a few more posts. And then, forget that you even have the blog.

Anyway, this blog has been in the ICU/coma unit since, I think, July. My last post was about Sherwood Schwartz dying. I must have been severly depressed because, egads, I stopped posting. Or maybe, I just became interested in something else. I go through phases, you know. WordPress, Tumble. Blogger, Tumblr, WordPress, Blogger, Pinterest, Facebook (for about 2 seconds), WordPress, blahbidy blah blah blah.

I must admit that I spend a lot of time on Tumblr. I like it because you only have to have the mind of a 12 year old and possess limited verbal skills to receive instant gratification. But, unfortunately, Tumblr is currently on the fritz. At least mine is. So, I decided to come here.

Another reason that I have returned is because I got a new computer. The old one was crap. I couldn’t load updates and it had all kinds of viruses. It was jacked to the limit. But, it still worked. Somewhat. What I could do and see on WordPress was very limited. It wouldn’t show stats or posts from people I was subscribed to or featured posts or ANYTHING. All I could see was YOUR BROWSER IS OUTDATED. I felt like the whole world was moving ahead and that I was still driving the Flintstone car (people on Tumblr would be like, “Who are the Flintstones”?).

OMG, you started posting on that piece of crap blog again!

So, since I got this new and moderately-priced computer from Best Buy, I have decided – since I can actually see what’s going on again (WordPress-wise) – to maybe do a post, or maybe even start the shit back up.

I even changed the blog theme . OMG. Shut up!

This blog isn’t supposed to be serious, or anything. It’s more of a ‘I’m at the bar and I just drank 3 shots of tequila really fast and my face is getting numb and I am gonna start acting stupid but try to keep my composure, but that’s really not going to happen because I’m drunk’ blog.

Anyway, let me leave you with this video of a song I like.

Anagrams

Television = It’s one evil
Adolf Hitler = Rill of death
Perry Mason = Smeary porn
George Washington = War on: He gets going
Alex Trebek = Exert bleak
Albert Einstein = Ten elite brains
Arkansas = A rank ass
Ronald Reagan = An oral danger
Planet Earth = Plant heater
Alexander Graham Bell = Real bad hex – All rang me
American Citizen = Cretinize maniac

Number 12 Looks Just Like Facebook

This morning MySpace was no. 7 in the trending now on my Yahoo page. MySpace? I haven’t heard from them in forever. So, I went to read some of the articles.

The article from Fortune Magazine was titled MySpace’s doom was in its DNA. I must admit that the reason I got a computer in the first place was because of MySpace. Up until then I was a technophobic quasi-luddite. I had read WAY too many conspiracy theory books and was still in my bar codes are the mark of the beast and the internet is satan phase.

I liked MySpace because of it’s creative aspect. It’s where I learned html and how to make gifs. I got tips and tricks from people that I had friended. Later on, I was one of the people giving out the tips.

In his BusinessWeek article, Felix Gillette argues that MySpace users’ ability to tweak their profile designs was one of the site’s “first breakthroughs.” The developers had accidentally allowed users to insert HTML into their profiles, “allowing them to play around with the background colors and personalize their pages, leading to the site’s kaleidoscopic, techno-junkyard aesthetic, which became its trademark.”

For the site’s users at the time, this was a feature. For users who might otherwise have signed up, it was a bug. MySpace has almost willfully discouraged older people, smarter people, and more mainstream people from joining. Facebook, meanwhile, has kept tight control over its design, which has remained free of blinking graphics and gaudy color schemes. Your elderly aunt could join it if she wanted to. And as time went on, she did.

I was one of those people with the blinking graphics and gaudy color scheme. I would add, update, and alter my page all of the time, and yes, there were times when it looked like a cross between Las Vegas, Oompa Loompa land and a really bad acid trip… but I didn’t care. I was being creative. I was discovering new techniques and increasing my digitally artistic repoirtoire.

Some people didn’t like it. I would get comments about the flashing pictures or about how ‘busy’ my page was. At first I took umbrage. I would respond back with, “It’s called MYSPACE, not YOURSPACE. If you don’t like what’s on my page then unfriend and block me.”

People kept insisting that I ‘tone it down’, and after a while I did. I just got tired of the comments.

I still can't believe that people complained about my glowing Thomas Edison. I took me 5 days to figure out how to do that.

One day I signed up for Facebook. I had heard about it and decided to investigate. One I had signed up I spent hours trying to figure out how to change the page. I wanted to add my own flair. I tried to upload gifs and much to my chagrin the pictures just would not move.
What? Facebook doesn’t support gifs? What kind of crap is that?
No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get my Facebook page to be anything other that a big white page with nothing but text. How boring!

Once I finally admitted ‘I can’t figure out how to tweak this thing’ defeat, I quit going on Facebook. It wasn’t until I started getting friend requests from family members and old schoolmates that I started back up with it. It was still boring. I didn’t want to talk about what I did today or ask people how they were doing. I wanted to create.

The differences between MySpace and Facebook reminded me of that episode of the Twilight Zone called Number 12 Looks Just Like You.

Synopsis (from wikipedia):

Which one? You only have 2 choices. You can look like no. 8 or no.12.

In a future society, all young adults go through a process known as “the Transformation,” in which each person’s body and face are changed to mimic a physically attractive design chosen from a small selection of numbered models. The process gives everyone a beautiful appearance, slows deterioration due to age and extends a person’s lifespan, and makes the recipient immune to any kind of disease.

The motive of the Transformation is social harmony. According to Professor Sig, a psychologist with the Transformation service, “Years before, wiser men than I . . . saw that physical unattractiveness was one of the factors that made men hate, so they charged the finest scientific minds with the task of eliminating ugliness in mankind.”

"And the nicest part of all, Val, is that I look just like you"!

18-year-old Marilyn Cuberle decides not to undergo the Transformation, seeing nothing wrong with her unaltered appearance. Nobody else can understand Marilyn’s decision, and those around her are confused by her displeasure with the conformity and shallowness of contemporary life. Her “radical” beliefs were fostered by her now-deceased father, who gave Marilyn banned books and came to regret his own Transformation years earlier (we learn that he committed suicide upon the loss of his identity).

Despite continued urging from family, doctors, and her best friend, Marilyn is still adamant about refusing the operation. She insists that the leaders of society don’t care whether people are beautiful or not, they just want everyone to be the same. Her pleas about the “dignity of the individual human spirit” and how “when everyone is beautiful, no one will be” have no impact. After being driven to tears by the inability of anyone to understand how she feels, she is put through the procedure and (like all the others) is enchanted with the beautiful result.

Dr. Rex, who operated on Marilyn, comments about how some people have problems with the idea of the Transformation but that “improvements” to the procedure now guarantee a positive result, thus indicating that there may be modifications made to the mind as well. Marilyn reappears, looking and thinking exactly like her best friend Valerie. “And the nicest part of all, Val,” she gushes, “I look just like you!” The last shots are of her, admiring herself in the mirror and smiling.

I saw the episode for the first time when I was about 11 or 12. I totally related to Marilyn. I hadn’t read 1984 yet, so it was my introduction to the idea of totalitarianism and conformity.

I had experienced the comformity issue somewhat. As a kid, I had been pressured into Little League. I was no good at baseball. I was placed in right field and never caught a ball that came my way. I struck out every single time I got up to bat. I would walk up to the plate and the other players and parents in the bleachers would groan.
Why was I being made to play a game that I obviously wasn’t any good at or had no interest in?

Then there was the issue of my clothes. I wanted to wear the brightest colors. I wanted to wear the bell bottoms with the biggest flair, the hip huggers with the hippest hug, the shirt with the most psychedelic and trippy design and the widest belt available. I was told by my parents that people would think I was weird. I was also told the same thing when I acted certain ways.

When I wanted to practice twirling my sister’s baton I was confined to the basement. I had learned very quickly that doing so in the front yard would result in admonishment, strange looks and the occasional ‘sissy’ comment.

I eventually gave up the baton and turned to juggling. It was considered more appropriate and masculine. When I practiced juggling, I didn’t have to hide in the basement and people didn’t laugh or look at me funny. I remember thinking that they were both skills that involved manual dexterity and coordination, so “why should it matter which one I choose to do”?

Reading that article about MySpace this morning left me feeling sad. MySpace used to be fun. I lost interest somewhat after they changed it to be more like Facebook. Some of the HTML features were disabled. I could no longer be as creative as before.
I don’t know how much longer MySpace will last. I guess it doesn’t really matter since it is no longer the way that it was when I joined.

For me MySpace was about originality. Facebook has the look and feel of conformity. Maybe that’s why it’s so popular. Maybe everybody wants to look like Number 12.

 

Update:
When I went to the blogging section of freshly pressed, this was the title of the blog post that came right after this one.

Google Launches Google+, a Facebook Look-Alike.

It Speaks, Yet Says Nothing

Sometimes, when I go back and read some of the other posts that I’ve written I think, “Dude, you sound like a crackhead”! Such as with the post from yesterday. I guess that’s what happens when the write a post around the pictures instead of the other way around. IDK.

Today is the day that I call to see if I have jury duty tomorrow. It’s almost been two months and so far nothing. My sister’s friend, Mike, is coming in tomorrow, so more that likely when I call this morning the recording will say, “There WILL be a trial tomorrow. Please report to room blah blah at 8 am.”
In addition to calling the JD hotline, I’m also going to have to call the Bailiff afterwards and leave my new phone number.

Every Tuesday I get an email with trivia from Ken Jennings. There are 7 questions and I usually suck at them. The last question is always a list and you have to find out what the items have in common. This is the list from today:

7. What unusual distinction is shared by these historical figures? Julius Caesar, Thomas Chatterton, Cleopatra, James Cook, Lady Jane Grey, Leonardo da Vinci, Jean-Paul Marat, Montezuma, Horatio Nelson, Socrates.

I have no clue. I know that Caesar got stabbed, Cleopatra got bitten by an asp, and Marat was stabbed in the bathtub. I thing that Lady Jane Grey got her head chopped off. I’m thinking that the answer has something to do with the way that they died.
If you figure it out, let me know.

This was the final question from last week:

7. What unusual (and fairly specific) distinction is shared by all these movies? The Barefoot Contessa, The Brothers McMullen, Frankenstein (1931), Great Expectations (1946), Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Night of the Living Dead, Plan 9 from Outer Space, Saving Private Ryan, Under the Volcano, Volver.

The answer is that they are all movies that begin in a cemetery. I didn’t get that one either. I had to wait until the answer came out today.

I just called and there is not a trial tomorrow.

In addition to being the smallest state west of the Mississippi, Arkansas is also the most boring. I guess nobody ever commits a crime. Either that or they all plead guilty.

Here’s a gif that someone posted on Tumblr. I thought it was cool. I think it’s Timothy Leary.

Timothy Leary was famous for this saying:

I never did any of that. I think the closest I ever came was watching a trippy Marshall McLuhan film in 9th grade Civics class. 

Marshall McLuhan was a Canadian who is known for coining the expressions The medium is the message and The global village. He also predicted the World Wide Web almost 30 years before it was invented.
His most widely known work is the book Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man.
My favorite of his media and their messages quotes is the one about television.

“It speaks, and yet says nothing”

I can agree with that. Even when I was a kid I remember thinking that television was the world’s greatest propaganda tool. People believe just about everything that they see and hear on television.

Ring Ring! Your Middle Age is Calling.

So, I was looking at photos of rotary telephones that I had googled. They had the nerve to call this phone VINTAGE.

That phone is NOT vintage. Retro maybe, but not vintage.

As far as I’m concerned, stuff isn’t vintage until everyone who was alive when it was invented is dead.

Now THESE are vintage.

                      

For me, a phone isn’t truly a phone unless it has a party line, or can be used as a murder weapon.

Also, telephones are supposed to have switchboard operators at the other end.

The phones nowadays suck. Cell phones! Phooey! Sure you can do a lot of stuff with them and I have one, but that’s beside the point. Cell phones have no personality. They’re little electronic annoyances. If you want something dependable, it needs to be linked to a landline… not a satellite.

Every day, thousands of people lose their cell phones. It’s kind of hard to lose a rotary phone. They’re either mounted to the wall or so heavy that you have a be an Olympic athlete weightlifter to pick them up. 

I’ll admit that rotary phones CAN be a pain in the butt. Especially if you’re trying to be the first caller to a radio station, so that you can win tickets to the Mott the Hoople concert, and you misdial on the last number. But so what. The concert probably would have sucked anyway.

You can’t take rotary landline phones with you. So what. The bells are super-loud and you can hear them from a mile away. Think of all the exercise you will get when run your ass off to answer the phone before the person hangs up.

You can’t text with a rotary phone. Okay, so write a letter and give the mailman something to do. Besides, texting is so annoying anyway. You don’t even have to know how to spell. All you have to know is the first letter of the word.

OMG
TTFN
TTYL
IDK
KMAMF
GTH
LMFAO
BAMF
YWBWIJH

Can you imagine what it would have been like if our Forefathers would have had texting capabilites?

Yo J. I’m riting the preamb 2 that const. thing we were talkin bout. How this B?

WTPOTUSIO2FAMPU

BITD – I mean, back in the day, we were left to our own devices. If you got stranded somewhere, or even kidnapped, then you had to actually use your imagination to get yourself out of the precarious prediciment. No calling or texting. Just your wits and survival skills. Nowadays, if people don’t have their cell phone and they get lost, they just die.

Cell phones turn people into zombies. Take a look at a zombie movie and then take a look at a busy metropolis during lunch hour. It’s the same scene. People ambling aimlessly, oblivious to anything other that the vapid conversation coming from the other end of the phone. They run into buildings. They walk into heavy traffic. Some have even fallen into water fountains.

Heaven forbid if there’s a bluetooth involved. Then they look like psych ward out-patients. Running around like a raving lunatics and flailing their arms. One-sided arguments that sound like psycho-babble.

You think, “Are they talking to me”?
“Is this a crazy person that I should run from”?

Who needs Big Brother when people have cell phones? They constantly rat themselves out. From their cell phones, they update their social networking sites with maps pinpointing exactly where the are. They blab everything to the world. They post pictures of themselves committing crimes. They send nude pictures of themselves. What kind of idiotic behavior is this? Do you WANT people to think you’re an idiot? Do you WANT the cops to know where you are when you break the law? Do you WANT to have to resign from public office?

This past weekend I went to a cell phone store to get a different plan. The girl was like, “Ummm, you only use an average of 13 minutes a month. You could probably get by with a lesser plan.”

Actually, I could probably get by with a rotary landline phone.

Electric Friday

The electrician came this morning to install a new ceiling fan in the living room, a new ceiling light in the kitchen, and a new ceiling light in the other bedroom. Ugh! I was kind of nervous when he was walking around in the attic. He was kind of large and I thought that he might fall through the ceiling. He didn’t. YAY!

I thought about attempting all of that myself, but I never made it past 7th grade wood shop. Electricity scares me. I still won’t get into a hot tub or jacuzzi because of that episode of Charlie’s Angels where some lady got electrocuted in a hot tub. Of course, it was rigged by the murderer, but still…

I don’t think I’m a pessimist or anything, but I always have the worst case scenerio in my head when I do stuff. Like…

It’s going to be MY plane that crashes.
It’s going to be the one box of Tylenol capsules that I buy that is laced with cyanide.
During a bank hold-up it’s going to be ME who is taken as hostage.

I hate being like that. I wish I could just get over it.

Anyway, it was kind of like that today when the electrician came. I kept thinking, “Okay, somewhere, something is going to be wrong, or messed- up, therefore preventing him from being able to accomplish the task”.

I guess that I just need to have more faith in people. IDK.

Anyway, I heard a new riddle today. I usually hate riddles, but this one cracked me up.

A murderer is condemned to death. He has to choose between three rooms. The first is full of raging fires, the second is full of assassins with loaded guns, and the third is full of lions that haven’t eaten in 3 years. Which room is safest for him?

I felt stupid because I couldn’t come up with the answer. When I heard the answer I was like, “OMG…DUH!”

Yesterday I reached the 100,000 stats mark on my other blog. I started it the same time as this one, but it gets a LOT more hits.

I guess I got lucky that I went to the stats page right after it had reached 100,000.

Also, yesterday, I ended up getting the most hits in one day. Most of the hits come from google searches. I almost hit the 2000 mark, but was a tad bit shy.

With the exception of that one day that I was featured in Freshly Pressed, I don’t come anywhere near that number on this blog. It’s usually between 50 and 80 a day.

Enough about that.

I’ve been one a diet for the last month. I already lost 2 belt loops. The pair of 38 inch waist shorts that I bought last week are also getting to be too big in the waist. I feel lighter.
I cut out all of the bad stuff. No soda. No sweets. I quite making cakes with tons of frosting.
I even started eating those yucky rice cakes.
I keep track of the calories with an app that I got for my iphone. It really helps a lot.

I’m trying to get down to the weight that I was in this picture.

That’s me in the middle. You can’t tell by looking at it, but I weighed 180. I’m 6 feet, so that’s pretty good.
That’s my brother, David, on the left. He lives in St. Louis. The guy holding the lady’s boob is my nephew, Nick. He has a doctorate in Journalism and teaches at some college in West Virginia.
One time I tried to read his dissertation, but it was WAY over my head.
Here is a sample from one of the pages.

Ummm…okay. Thanks for the info.

Hey, did you know this?

Well, I didn’t. Not until today anyway.

I don’t have any plans for tonight, but this seems to be the most logical.

Anyway, if you didn’t figure out what the answer to the riddle is, it’s the lions. Lions who haven’t eaten in 3 years are dead.