i tried to do handstands for you

it's nice how sometimes things seem terrible
but baby animals can always make things seem better.

this makes me happy.

"Sam, Stop Zooming In On My Face, It's Creepy!!"

修羅雪姫

This scene from Lady Snowblood reminds me of Secret Agent Super Dragon:




dun dun

dun dun


DUNDUNDUNDUN


ok yeah, whatever. I'm really mad right now!!!!!!

wtf prom fashion!!!!!!! part one.

first the rant (then the pics):

the prom is an unfortunate long-standing tradition, and suburban american proms have a distinction for being particularly stupid. in europe, especially scandinavia, formal dances usually feature an open bar. some proms are held on party boats. but in suburban america, proms are held in country clubs and hotel ballrooms. there are no bars— everyone is expected to get drunk, and laid, covertly. but the worse thing of all is the horrendous prom fashion. it’s become a ritual that lasts months for girls to go prom dress shopping, because it’s their one night to wear a gown and pretend they are some manner of elite. they make appointments for their hair, makeup and nails, and they all come out resembling either plastic-y 40-year-old casino patrons, or drag queens. the proms of real rich kids are quite different, as no one ever looks “overdone” or plastic. they all look as if they just woke up looking that classy. it’s the suburban middle class that thinks that have to deck themselves out to resemble money, or power. and they all end up looking stupid. and getting their fashion critiqued by me. this is the part we’ve all been waiting for— where jill the fashion mag whore weighs in on this years junior prom fashion! first let’s take a look at this years horrid trends!

the faux corset back.

where real corsets where designed to make you appear thinner, the prom dress corset-back instead displays everyone’s attractive back fat, spilling forth from where the corset threads try to keep it in check (to no avail). but even if you would not to appear to have back-fat in a regular backless dress, don’t worry! the corset back is here to manufacture you some. you too can look like packaged lard!
these rules do not apply to anyone who has less than 2% body fat. in fact, for those people i recommend the corset-back. this is your night to flaunt your protruding spine!

no pictures of fat because i don't want to offend anyone,
but if you don't look like this,
yuor doing it wrongz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

matchy-matchy

yeah, your date’s tie should match your dress (or something. who made these rules anyway?) but do you and all of your friends have to match too? the trends for this year say: yes!
the bridal party look is so in for 2009! color schemes are beyond chic.
screw originality, this year is about becoming a clone of everyone else at your table. make a statement together. strength in numbers, i say.


wtf dates

but if you feel limited by color schemes, you can show your personality by choosing a date that will turn heads and make everyone ask “what the fuck?”
for example, if you’re the leading lady diva type with your head up your ass…go with a arabic midget-sophomore.
if you’re a wannabe model who thinks she’s the next face of couture…go with your dad!

with daddyz?

one shouldered gowns

i don’t understand this. it looks like “some furry creature lodged itself in my boobs, but then crawled out halfway and wrapped itself around my shoulder.”

fake tans

remember that arabic midget you’re going with? your skin should be darker than his. no exceptions. orange is also acceptable.
you may ask: but i’m asian. do i still have to go tanning?
the answer is yes. still no exceptions.

guyz.....aznz need tanz t000!

being a drunk whore

returning again for another season of prominence, the most consistent trend we’ve seen: being a drunk whore.
passing out under the table and getting arrested is so vogue.
and as everyone knows, you will end up fucking someone. maybe it’s your first time, more likely it’s your five hundreth time, because you’re a whore anyway. but you will end up sleeping with that sweaty, ugly suburban jock with no fashion sense and bad hair you brought who was only coerced into his lime green tux by the prospect of getting some.



more laterz!

this is all meant in fun. no offense should me taken, but if your offended by this, you shouldn't be reading anyway!

dream, 3:45 - 7:26, may 11. part 2.

My eyes flicked open and focused, and I was immediately stricken with terror. Us cliff-sitters were at the very top of the tower, suspended in metal chairs over the congregation.
The chair rocked at extreme angles, almost to the point where I would have slipped off if it tilted any farther. There were no harnesses or handle bars. There was nothing to hold onto.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the chair pitched back and forth. I was waiting for someone else to scream and fall off their chair, fall down into the assembly, where there body would be splayed out and broken in a pile of blood.
I wasn’t one to believe in miracles, but I started praying for a saintly coincidence that would keep me alive.
Peterka began to explain the physics behind what was keeping us in the chairs, when we surely should have been falling off. But I couldn’t listen to her. I let my eyes go out as far as they could, and tried to imagine I was just flying, to take some of the terror away.
My eyes alighted on the playground far below, and I was immediately distracted from the potential death I was facing.
Lacey was on my playground, in a red dress. She was spinning around in circles, with her hair piled on top of her head. It was far away, but I was straining my eyes to see if she had any money in her hands. My payment.

Suddenly Ms. Peterka stopped talking, and the chairs stopped rocking. We were retracted onto the roof of the tower, and I could suddenly stand on solid ground. Several other girls collapsed beside me, and I saw their eyes were wet with tears. They had been sobbing from fright.
We were being lead down the steps as the audience applauded wildly, but before I could exit the roof, Ms. Peterka put her hand on my shoulder and stopped me.
“There’s someone I want you to meet, “ she said. An eleven year old girl dressed in late 1920’s fashion had been standing in a corner of the roof, and Ms. Peterka brought her forward.
“This is the President of the corporation,” Peterka said, by way of introduction.
I shook the president’s hand.
“He financed the entire project with revenue from the brothel he runs in Amsterdam.”
He. He? This girl was a man?
I looked him over carefully. He still looked to me like a ghostly little girl.
“You will have to interview him at some point for your project,” she said.
I nodded.
“You may go,” Peterka said. I began down the tower steps, and as I left I saw the President’s eyes follow me.

I had to get back to the playground.
At the bottom of the steps however, all of the physics students were being herded onto buses. We were to be taken to hotels, where we all had to stay while doing our project. I had no time to get to the playground.
I climbed onto a bus, and my eyes adjusted to the interior. It was lit by gas lamps, and it looked exactly like a furniture store. My eyes searched for Sean Michael so I could get my money from him, but he was nowhere.
I sat down at a table with Elena and Amanda. An odd assortment of other people littered the back of the bus, and as we started moving, someone called out, “Why the fuck do we have to do this project in a hotel?”
“Because the President is a bit queer,” I said vaguely. Everyone’s eyes focused on me immediately.
“That’s totally uncalled for,” Elena said sternly. “It’s very incorrect to say ‘queer’ as an insult, it’s worse than calling things gay!”
I just sat for a second, until my brain recalled the obvious homosexual connotations. I had simply meant that the President was odd.
“I didn’t mean—“
“Pfft, we all know exactly what you meant. I feel horrible for whoever has to share a room with you. I have never met someone so intolerant! Ugh,” Amanda said.
I fell silent, and waited for the bus ride to be over.

Onto Transmigration!

I love:
These little shorts I'm wearing. It's like not having any pants, but being able to walk around the house.

I hate:
"FML."
Just because people read some made-up stories on some unfunny website, they think that every little thing that goes wrong in their life constitutes the declaration of "FML!"
Having to choose between a vacation in Paris or Rome does not deserve "FML."
Having a test tomorrow does not deserve "FML."
Having to wait a month for your parents to buy you a new car does not deserve "FML."
So please, stop filling my news feed with your constant bitching.
Make a blog that no one reads instead. ;)

"Both my parents died in a murder/suicide, so now I'm being sent to live with my uncle who secretly molested me as a child. FML!"

"I look like this? FML!"

dream, 3:45 - 7:26, may 11. part 1.

We poured out onto the grass lawn from inside the building, but it seemed like the entire school had gotten there before me. The air was calm, and the students were strangely quiet. Everything was so dark, it could have been twilight, but it was two in the afternoon.
A large tower had been erected next to the building, with glowing lights on top.
Finally, my class sat down on the grass, on top of a tall grassy cliff that overlooked the rest of the lawn. We sat on the very edge.
Sean suddenly walked past me in a small group of people, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him away.
“We need to go to the playground,” I said. “The money is there.”
He nodded.

We walked silently behind the school to where the playground was. In the grass all around there was strewn paper money. I tried to pick it up quickly, shoving fistfuls of crinkled fifties at Sean to put in his pockets until they were full, and I shoved more bills down my shirt.
But Ms. Peterka’s voice suddenly boomed out over the students, cutting through the still silence like a butcher knife.
“Shit,” I said.
The assembly was beginning.
I ducked into my spot at the edge of the cliff, just as Ms. Peterka was about to walk past. I shouldn’t have cut it so close.

“I have invented a machine,” she said, gesturing to the tower, “that can lend false color to stellar light in real life.”
I gazed up at the top of the tower again, realizing that the glowing lights were not affixed to the top of the tower, they were a part of the sky.
They were stars.
“Of course, this was all financed by the amazing corporation I have partnered with, American Inc.” Peterka paused as applause rose up from the collective before continuing. “Now, as their final project this year, my physics classes are going to reenact the process American Inc. went through to construct this, and I will be assigning them roles to play within the corporation. But right now, I will go set up the demonstration for this evening— I mean, afternoon.”
She put the microphone down and everyone clapped. I looked with dread as she climbed around the lawn to the cliff where I was sitting. I was sure she was going to call me out for cutting.
But she didn’t.
“Hello, cliff-sitters,” she said. “We have selected you to be the participants in today’s demonstrations.” She nodded her head at me, “Jill, I’m glad you’re in this group.”
“Well, I’m not,” I muttered.
“Also, Jill, just a heads up— I’ve selected you to play the part of the President on the corporation. This is one of the most important roles, and you’re normally such a slacker, that this will force you to learn.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Well, now, I need all of you to close your eyes.”
We all shut our eyelids, and were immediately blindfolded. They lead us in a line across grass and up steps, until we were instructed to sit. I felt the metal chair, but my legs hung over into nothing.
“Open your eyes,” she said.

My Hair is Still a Mess

UPDATE:
She isn't dead, she apparently ran away in the middle of the night,
and took $700 and the TV.
I need a new hairdresser.

i need out of my shirts i think you'll find attractive.

World of the Living, World of the Dead

"So you smoke? Cool, come smoke with us before school tomorrow."
"But I have first period... I couldn't be..."
"NERD! NERRRRRRRRRRDDD!"

"If you want that license agreement, you have to go see Mr.Razinki."
"Taminki's dad..? Where can I find him?"
"You can find him at his condo complex."
I walked into the condo building, it was shaped like a B, with two court yards in the center. Mr. Razinki was seated on his throne in the center, two naked bitches at his side. He was old, fat, and Indian.
"I'm going to need some pretzels."
"Of course."
"You better get on that, Razinki DOES NOT wait."
I rushed around, and burst through a closed door. Mr. Razinki was rolling around with one of his bitches on his dusty bed, and I screamed and slammed the door.
I ran wildly into the forest. Matt stood amongst the the slender trees, elevated above the crowd of people.
"Now you all must know, I brought you here to die. Yes, I will kill you all now. The only way to save yourself is if all players tap a forest."
Everyone did.
"You fools! You would kill a baobab just for the sake of YOUR life?"
"Is tapping killing the trees? really?"
"Of course, you are cutting them down for resources."
"I thought it was for mana, like gaining their life energy or some shit."
"For your human selfishness, you will all die by my hand! You could have escaped by just running away, and seeing if the wilderness would LET you live."
I ran up the high mountain, the snow now covered the trees. Finally at the top, the forest cleared and I was in a grassy field. I looked back to see if that shadowy figure had followed me, then continued up the mountain to the old house to call for help. However, the place was abandoned and falling apart. But just then, I heard his voice.
"Hey, here comes poodle kid!" They had found me after all.
I think I need to go buy a switchblade. Yea, there's a good reason.
Switch!
Blade....
Switch!
Blade....
"Son, for Mother's day, I think we need to go shopping for condoms. Oh my, there are many different flavors of these now. perhaps I can use them for dish washing, look! my hand fits right inside. How novel."
"I hear Jeffery got a crate of them for Christmas. Have you tried blowing them up?"
"Oh look at that! Just like a balloon animal! These things have SO many uses."
switch
blade
switch blade
switchblade
switchbladeswitchbladeswitchbladeswitchbladeswitchbladeswitchblade