| Vampire Bill Figures Out Texting |
[Oct. 27th, 2009|11:21 pm] |
10/26/09 8:41 PM
GOOD EVENING, SOOKIE. VAMPIYAH BILL WISHES TO INVAHT YOU TO VISIT FANGTASIA, THE VAMPIYAH BAH IN SHREVEPOHT.
8:45 PM
AT FANGTASIA, AH, VAMPIYAH BILL, SHALL FUHNISH YOU WITH THE FAHNEST OF FOUR HUNDRED DOLLAH VAMPIYAH WAHN.
8:50 PM
AH SOOKIE, AH YOU SLEEPING? WAKE UP, SOOKIE, FOR AH, VAMPIYAH BILL, HAVE IMPOHTANT TEXTS FOH YOU.
8:52 PM
SOOKIE, AH SENT MAH FUHST TEXT MESSAGE SHOHTLY AFTAH MAH PAHTICIPATION IN THE WAH OF NOHTHEHN AGGRESSION. IT WAS WEIUHD.
8:55 PM
SOOKIE, AH FEAUH AH MUST STOP TEXTING, AS IT HAS COME TAHME FOH MAH AEROMAHPLANE TO SLIP THESE SUHLY BONDS OF EAUTH. LITTLE SHAKESPEAH FOH YOU THEAH, SOOKIE, OH AS AH LAHK TO CALL HIM, THE BAHD.
10:21 PM
SOOKIE MAH DEAH, AH HAVE SAFELY ARRIVED IN LAHS ANGELUHS. NOW TO PICK UP MAH VAMPIYAHMOBILL. DID YOU SEE WHAT AH DID THEAH? AH SOOKIE, AH LOHVE TO LAUGH.
10:24 PM
KNOHCK KNOHCK
10:26 PM
AH SOOKIE, THE PROPAH RESPOHNSE IS "WHO'S THEAH?". AH SHALL RESPOHND FOH YOU. WHO'S THEAH?
10:28 PM
ME, VAMPIYAH BILL. AH HA HA HA HA HA. DID YOU ENJOY MAH JOKE, SOOKIE?
10:33 PM
HEAH IS ANOTHUH JOKE FOH YOUAH ENJOYMENT. VAMPIYAH BILL HAS NOT WAITED THIS LOHNG FOH LUHGGAGE SINCE RECONSTRUHCTION. AH HA HA HA HA SOOKIE.
10:36 PM
TAKE MAH WIFE, PLEASE! FOH, YOU SEE, AH AM NOW IMMOHTAL AND CANNOHT RUHVEAL MAH VAMPIYAH SELF TO HUH. HELLO? IS THIS THING OHN? |
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| I'm Terrific. |
[Oct. 7th, 2009|01:05 pm] |
Hey everybody! Get a load of me! I'm in school again! Man, I love school--everything is so structured and easy, and if you can forget about the giant hole of debt you're digging it's just the happiest little cakewalk. La la la, read some books. Deet deet deet, go to class. I don't have to wake up early or go to an office or run an excavation in Lander County that stupidly is scheduled to start in late October (too soon?). Sorry, I didn't mean to rub that in. Bully for me! Bully for school!
I was very apprehensive about going to USC because it has such a terribly annoying undergraduate culture, but it turns out when you're a historic preservation grad student you just hang out in your cubicle all day listening to the architecture students across the room make honking noises and talk about cardboard. My only contact with undergrads is yelling HEADS UP! at the ones that are about to run into me on campus because they're texting and walking at the same time. It's my favorite game.
Aaaaand I really like Los Angeles. Everything here has conspired to make my transition an easy one--the weather was nice and cool when I first got here, and my brother gave me Cuban potato balls and took me to movies, and my apartment is one block from a Trader Joe's and a cheese shop, and I haven't fallen down once, and my hair's all curly again. School: It's Happening! |
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| On the Road Again |
[Aug. 13th, 2009|06:29 pm] |
As I am constitutionally incapable of staying in one place for more than two years at a time, I'm on the move once more! Most of my readers are already aware that I am about to start grad school (again) to get an M.A. (again). With the heroic help of many friends, all my shit has been packed into a storage pod, where it will languish at my long-suffering parents' house until I find someplace to live in Los Angeles. I should probably get going on that, since orientation is next week.
I'm skipping my general grad school orientation in favor of backpacking in central Nevada, because I've already done grad school once and I would just spend the whole time rolling my eyes and yelling "get a load of THIS guy!" anyway. But I plan on going to my departmental orientation, and that should also be entertaining, since my program in historic preservation is nestled within the fancy lad USC School of Architecture. OOOOOOH I'm an ARCHITECT! I'm picturing tidy rows of black-clad hipnicks wearing colorful, geometric spectacles. Oh boy. They are going to love me.
I've been visiting my grandpa and other assorted wonderful relatives in Montana this week, and it's been grand. I ate a pork chop sandwich with hot mustard and onions from Pork Chop John's, had a gin and tonic at the Club Moderne, and watched the Hallmark Channel a lot. Time well spent, I say.
ANYway, I don't have much else to report, except that I am on vacation and you are not. This gloating may backfire in about two weeks, when I realize I actually decided to go to grad school again. |
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| Mary on Politics |
[Jul. 5th, 2009|01:35 pm] |
Politics, huh guys? They just keep going and going. The craziness! It continues to happen! I don't want to bore you with politics, but I have several things to say. First of all, this Sarah Palin business. Pundits and speculators, get your heads out of your asses. She's not quitting because of some secret scandal, or to run for president. She's quitting so she can get some big TV deal and get all the attention she likes, without having to deal with the criticism about how she doesn't read or know what words mean. That hateful woman is going to be yapping and winking on our televisions for the rest of our lives, and even cancelling cable will not save us. Don't worry, I haven't cancelled my cable yet--not while DANCE YOUR ASS OFF is a show that exists! Morbidly obese dance party? YES PLEASE!
The other political thing is that Al Franken is finally in the Senate. Al Franken, who wrote funny, funny things with Tom Davis back in Saturday Night Live's coke-fueled heyday, is a United States senator. How I wish Michael O'Donaghue were alive to see this.
Well, enough about politics! Any celebrities die lately? WHAT???
No, seriously, I have a conspiracy theory that I could use your help spreading. Remember how there was that revolution going on in Iran, and things were getting really hairy with the crackdown, and our media were actually covering it in what amounts to some depth in our current journalistic cesspool, and there was increasing international pressure to Do Something? Then Michael Jackson died and everyone forgot about Iran. Not a coincidence, my friends. That was a CIA hit if ever I've seen one. You heard it here first!
PUNDIT OUT! |
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| The Greatest Love of All |
[May. 1st, 2009|10:32 am] |
I know I haven't written in a while--I've been a busy lady. Between surviving winter, applying to grad school, finishing book revisions, starting and subsequently neglecting other blogs, and watching America's Next Top Model marathons on Oxygen, my proverbial plate has been F-U-L FULL. As spring approaches, my mind is turning lightly to thoughts of love, or more specifically, to my current lack thereof.
I realized my love life is like a Venn diagram. One set is the dudes who like me, the other set is the dudes I like, and therefore the intersection is the dudes who like me, whom I also like. This intersection has always been very narrow, due to a) the numerous extremely charming quirks of my personality and appearance; b) my refusal to have anything to do with guys who wear shell necklaces, don't know the difference between "your" and "you're", say "just kidding" after making an obvious joke (well, "joke"), or cite The Fountainhead as a favorite book; and c) my complete inability to accept what the majority of males look for in females.
To illustrate c): last Halloween, I went to a party dressed as a hot dog. Not a Sexy Hot Dog, just a Regular Hot Dog, because I thought it was funny. I knew I was going to a party full of people I already knew and was not interested in romantically, and yet some small part of me still thought "dude, I am so getting laid tonight. Because I am dressed as a hot dog, and that is fucking awesome, and who wouldn't want to hit that*? Not in some weird sex pervert hot dog fetish way (I don't even want to know if that's a thing), just in a 'holy crap a hot dog costume yay!' kind of way. Surely some handsome stranger is going to wander into this party and gasp, 'a lady in a hot dog costume? Why, she must be the most fascinating person alive!' And presumably he will also be dressed as a hot dog and we will walk off into the sunset holding hands, our hot dog costumes silhouetted by the setting sun."
Shockingly, my hot dog suit didn't get me any action that night, although I did win Sexiest Costume. You know what else somehow hasn't nabbed me a boyfriend? The wonderful Nicolas Cage pun I wrote on one of my other blogs. I know puns are lazy writing, but god damn it I love them, and I really thought "the Con-Airy in the coal mine" was going to get me at least one marriage proposal. You know, there was a time when puns actually did get me boyfriends. Quick, to the wayback machine! Machine, take me to Stanford University circa 1995! While you're at it, tell Past Me to start using moisturizer and sunscreen! On the neck toooooo!
Since I'd rather be a celibate hermit than date people who aren't basically male versions of me, I guess I'll just stick with my current plan for finding love: watching The Wire at home alone and yelling "OH SHIT, OMAR COMIN'!" I heard that was the greatest love of all, anyway.
I'm not writing this post looking for sympathy, and I beg you, don't respond with anything sincere, supportive or encouraging. Then my elljay would be too much like Facebook. Have you noticed how Facebook for some reason makes people come across as super-sincere and overly compassionate? If you're feeling self-indulgent or jokey and you update your status to say "Mary has the swine flu" you get ten thousand comments like "feel better!" and "oh no!" and "I'm praying for you!" and "FU LOL!" (but that one is just you commenting on your own status update). It's off-putting.
*I'm not sure I've ever thought the phrase "hit that" in my life. Yuck. |
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| Lady Borax and Her Wiles |
[Mar. 6th, 2009|01:41 pm] |
I'm told I haven't been bloggering enough on my elljay, so here is the abstract I wrote for the Nevada Archaeological Association conference next month. Pagemaq and I maaaaaay end up submitting the one she wrote instead.
Borax: It's Where It's At!
(or, Borax: THE SCOURGE OF THE COUNTRYSIDE!, I haven't decided yet)
Oh borax, you treacherous, insouciant playmate. Long have you beckoned to man with your siren song of blacksmithing flux properties and mild surfactant characteristics. Have mercy, borax! We are but mortals! Specifically, we are mortals employed at WCRM, and we totally found some borax shit or whatever. Look on us, borax, and know this: we do not fear you and your common manifestation as fluffy ulexite "cottonballs." NAY WE DO NOT. You may be a harpy, lady borax, a cruel mistress and a succubus, but your many uses (in adhesives, or paint, for example) pale beside our steel-strong human ingenuity. It is WE who use YOU, borax, not the other way around, and if you do not accept this gracefully we WILL NOT HESITATE to rake you into windrows or piles, or dig you out from shallow pit excavations, put you into concentrators, which are tanks of water often set on rock or brick foundations and heated from beneath, boil the solution until you dissolve, pour you into cooling tanks, wait for you to crystallize on rods and/or plates, remove you, and bag you up for shipping. |
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| Inauguroggleoggleoggle |
[Jan. 25th, 2009|02:47 pm] |
You guys, I still cannot believe our president is a young, smart, compassionate, feminist, biracial dude from motherfucking HAWAII. Can you believe that? Are we in a parallel universe? Oh, he doesn't support gay marriage? Oh, okay. Still here.
He'll come around, though. I really want to believe his inclusion of the LGBA marching band, also known as that band with the GREATEST DRUM MAJOR IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, in the inauguration parade wasn't a totally token gesture. After all, in his inaugural address he managed to get in shout-outs to curiosity, science and atheism. These are three of my favorite, most-ignored-over-the-past-eight-years things! Surely gay rights can't be far behind!
At the risk of sounding sentimental, I just wanted to share how much I enjoyed witnessing the inauguration live on my teevee with a bunch of good friends, several pounds of Basque-style chorizo and a mighty river of mimosas. When CNN showed Bush finally getting into the helicopter and flying away, we played "Signed Sealed Delivered" and danced around like a bunch of liberated Belgians. OK, I was the only one dancing but I danced so hard it was like there were at least three of me. As the helicopter got smaller and smaller until it was a tiny dot in the sky, followed by a massive wave of four million middle fingers (as my mom said, "it was too cold to moon") (and yes, I am assuming everyone was flipping him off with both hands), I may have cried a little bit.
I TOTALLY DIDN'T THOUGH I DON'T CRY CRYING'S FOR BABIES GOD BLESS AMERICA! |
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| Aught-Eight Was Great |
[Jan. 4th, 2009|07:36 pm] |
Doot doot doot dooooo! Hear ye hear ye! The Ringhoff Best and Worst of the Past Year Awards Have Arrived!
The 2008ies!
Best Human Name: Twerp Dingley
Best Meal Aside From My Mom's Cooking: Here is what I ate at Clyde Common in Portland: arugula salad, fried chicken livers with fresh herb salad and aioli, sweetbread ravioli, creme brulee with a brownie and lavender shortbread, sheep's milk cheese, and sauvignon blanc. Every thing was the best version of that thing I've ever had.
Best Movies: Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Ironman, and Ghost Town.
Worst Movie (Possibly of All Time): Mamma Mia. You know how Heath Ledger got SO DEEP into his role as the Joker in The Dark Knight it KILLED him? In Mamma Mia, Meryl Streep got so deep into her role as a horrible screaming flailing eye-bugging person with even more horrible screaming flailing eye-bugging friends it killed everyone who saw it. She killed me. I'm sitting here writing this as a ghost. I guess it kind of serves me right.
Best Show: Willie Nelson at Floore's Country Store, Helotes, Texas. Second place: Gogol Bordello at the Grand Sierra in Reno. I like those guys because they sound like muppets.
Best Hipster Trend: "Alternative" marching bands. I've long goggled at March Fourth and Extra Action but was delighted to see the best one yet, Mucca Pazza, at the Maker Faire in Austin. Head-mounted amplifiers, people! Brilliant!
Worst Fashion Trend That Continues To Not Die God DAMN it with the maternity-looking empire waists! Still? Ridiculous!
Best Prank: Tim DeChristopher ruining the auctioning-off of oil and gas leases outside Utah national parks. Well played, sir. Well played.
Enough Already: Skinny jeans, rich people, homophobia, "these tough economic times", child actors, pugs, Tyra Banks, "literally", goggles on heads, "recessionista", and dolphins.
Please, Sir, I Want Some More: Puppets, hoodies, cuttlefish, klezmer music, meritocracy, player pianos, tiny houses, and movies shown outdoors with beer.
Happy New Year, assholes! |
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| An Open Letter to US Weekly |
[Dec. 10th, 2008|06:33 pm] |
Dear US Weekly,
We've known each other for a while. I used to feel a little dirty buying you, maybe flipping through a New Yorker before surreptitiously picking you up instead, but one day you changed me. I work hard, and if my brain wants a break while also finding out who wore it best and whether celebrities are in fact just like us, then god dammit I am going to buy you, US Weekly, and I am going to read you openly and without shame. I will not buy OK or Star or even that stately lady People instead of you, US Weekly, for you have freed me. You have been my companion on long flights and my cheer in dark times. You have been my friend, second only to Mr. Television, when my human friends have been neglectful. Bits of you have been lovingly clipped and sent to various parties along with hand-lettered Post-It notes reading "You". You are a part of me, US Weekly. There is no you and me--there is only US. Weekly.
Which is why it pains me to admit I haven't read you in several weeks now, US Weekly. Are you wondering why? I'll tell you. It's because you keep violating my two cardinal US Weekly-related rules, which appear contradictory on the surface, and in fact are, but are no less valid in my eyes or in the eyes of the Lord.
Rule 1: I must feel like I'm better than anyone on the cover of US Weekly. For example, although humanitarian scarecrow Angelina Jolie may be beautiful and famous, I'm better than her because I don't pursue married men. It's simple. Usually it's even easier--I'm better than Katherine Heigl because my eyes aren't on the sides of my skull, I'm better than Shia LaBoeuf because my name isn't Shia LaBoeuf and I wasn't in Transformers. Oh, the list of celebrities I'm better than is a mile long.
So it was a real problem for me when you put the Obama family on the cover two weeks in a row. I am not better than the Obama family. They are tall lovely geniuses with nice hair and big hearts. I'm pretty sure even the youngest hammy kid is better than me. I can't buy that magazine--my president-elect does not belong in there. I prefer my political heroes on the cover of the New York Times (ideally under a banner headline reading OBAMA NAMES KUCINICH CO-PRESIDENT: "IT WAS MY PLAN ALL ALONG"). So there went a fortnight of US Weekly.
Rule 2: People from The Hills are not celebrities and do not belong on the cover of US Weekly. I can't bring myself to buy an issue with a cover photo of Heidi or Spencer or Lauren or the other one with the dark hair or even Justin Bobby with his hat over his hoodie like a god damned fool. I know this contradicts Rule 1, because god knows if there's anyone on this earth I'm better than, it's the people from The Hills. Well, and Hitler. But I just can't do it. And I can't explain why Rule 2 is true, but I know for a fact it is.
As if to rub slightly salty salt into an admittedly extremely minor wound, after two weeks of Obama covers, you went straight into Speidi covers, US Weekly, and I therefore have not bought you since the election. I think. OK, I might have gotten one--I think Reese Witherspoon was on the cover, so no rules were broken. Oh shit, am I better than Reese Witherspoon? She went to the same school I did AND is dating Jake Gyllenhaal. She's probably a cokehead or something.
Anyway! The buck stops here, US Weekly. Heed my warnings! No more Obamas or Hills yahoos! Don't make me start reading the Atlantic Monthly. IT'S SO BORING. |
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| So let me get this straight |
[Sep. 22nd, 2008|05:17 pm] |
I didn't make any money from banks and lenders and investors making stupid irresponsible decisions, but my tax money goes to bail them out when their stupid irresponsible decisions lead to them going OH NO I CRASHED THE MARKET THAT'LL BE 700 BILLION DOLLARS K THX BAI. Right?
I didn't buy a house when everyone said OMG BUY BUY BUY because I crunched the numbers and decided I couldn't afford the monthly payments on the stupid irresponsible loans banks offered me. Other people took out these stupid irresponsible loans and then, surprise, couldn't make the monthly payments, OH NO NO ONE TOLD ME I WAS GOING TO HAVE TO PAY ACTUAL MONEY PROTECT ME FROM FORECLOSURE NOW K THX BAI and my tax money is going to go to bail them out. If all the foreclosures were allowed to happen, housing prices would fall enough that people like me could actually afford to buy houses with reasonable loans, right? And that would, I assume, be better for the economy in the long run, right?
I mean, really? Am I right? I am not good at money things at all, so maybe I'm missing something, but it seems to me that my reward for being fiscally responsible is I get to give my money to idiots who will never be forced to learn the consequences of their idiocy. This means they'll do it over and over, until the economy finally really tanks and I have to struggle to survive in a post-apocalyptic wasteland where I'll have to make armor out of tires. And that is bullshit. |
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| Nuts are Dino-mite! |
[Jun. 16th, 2008|11:06 am] |
County fair season is starting soon! This may be my favorite time of year. Goats and old-timey motors making loud noises and food on sticks? YES PLEASE! As always, the fair awesomeness bar has been set high by the Stanislaus County Fair. The theme this year is NUTS ARE DINO-MITE, expressed in a graphic that makes me crack up every time I look at it. I seriously cannot stop laughing at this thing. Everything about it pleases me. I implore you to go look at it.
But it is the picture bar at the top of the Current Events page that sums up the fair, and possibly Stanislaus County, best: Come to the Stanislaus County Fair! There are horsies and jams and flowers and WHOA LOOK AT THAT GUY! and candy apples and rides and PUNCH A COW IN THE FACE! |
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| It's been a "quiet week" in Mesquite |
[May. 18th, 2008|06:32 pm] |
5-2-08 at 10:07 PM: Disorderly Conduct
WMA wearing a "wife beater" shirt, flipping everyone the "bird" fell over, appears "stoned", has a locator bracelet on. |
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| Excerpts from the Mesquite Police Blotter |
[May. 14th, 2008|04:46 pm] |
From Mesquite Local News, May 8, 2008:
4-21-08 at 8:10 PM: Citizen Assist
Rp requests to speak with an officer about subjects that knock on her door and then run away before she can reach the door.
4-22-08 at 10:53 AM: Mental Person
Would like to show officer a pair of underwear and other evidence to prove that some one is actually breaking into his RV and that he is not really as "gone off the deep end as they think he is".
4-22-08 at 4:09 PM: Suspicious Person
Black Male Adult (BMA) wearing camo fighting imaginary people with a stick. |
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| India: The Postcard |
[May. 1st, 2008|05:05 pm] |
So I kept a travel journal when I was traveling in India, because I'm an international traveler, and have been meaning to sit down and type it all out as an after-the-fact blog. But it's actually pretty boring, unless you're interested in how many times I ate vegetable cutlets at India Coffee House, which I assure you you are not, so I'm not going to do that. I also realized that my whole trip can be summed up by one postcard that I found in Agra. I don't have an image of it to show you so I'll paint you a WORD PICTURE.
OK. On this postcard, Krishna's flying along atop a dude with an eagle head and people arms, and he's accepting a lotus flower from an elephant, which is rearing up from the water, and also a crocodile is biting the elephant's leg (the elephant is crying a single golden tear). There's just all kinds of craziness going on in this postcard. I bought two (I wish I'd bought ALL) and sent them to my brother and parents with the message
Dear Most Honorable [Parents/Brother],
Everything in India is like this.
Love, Mary
This was early in the trip, Day Two to be exact, and I was just joking around all ha ha, what a ridiculous thing to say, aren't I a silly goose? Of course no modern country could be like this crazy postcard! The very absurdity of the postcard/reality juxtaposition ensures the desired jocularity is achieved!
Well, as it turns out, everything in India IS like that crazy postcard. There are a million contradictory things happening at once, and I am totally not culturally versed as to the meaning of any of them, and they are alternately terrifying and hilarious. If you like crazy shit, hie ye to India. THE END! |
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| Oh fuck it. |
[Apr. 15th, 2008|01:36 pm] |
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OK, there's too much going on, and power sources are just too intermittent, for me to continue perpetuating this facade that I'm actually going to blog something. I guess my experience here is just too AUTHENTIC. Maybe I'll write something when I get home. (Probably not). |
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| The poorly-blogged adventure continues |
[Apr. 12th, 2008|07:07 pm] |
OMG you guyz, I hauled my ass all the way to the Internet place in Alleppey and I forgot my little travel journal with all my words in it, so I can't do a detailed blog now. :((((( I'll sum up: we flew to Cochin, first stayed in a crappy place then stayed in the 16th century Portugese governor's mansion in which Vasco de Gama died, wandered around looking at churches and temples and markets, bought a bunch of stuff, got Full Body Massaged, visited Jewtown (yes), saw a traditional dance thing, had several Howard Hughes germ freakout moments, took a bus to Alleppey (THE VENICE OF THE INDIA), ate a giant amazing thali lunch while locals laughed at whitey clumsily eating sans utensils, cruised the backwaters, and now here we are all up to date.
Tomorrow we're going to check out a huge pink ashram (I am not a huge pink ashram) and eventually make our way down to the tippiest tip of the country, where three seas meet and probably someone will want me to come to their shop. |
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| THE EXOTIC SUBCONTINENT |
[Apr. 9th, 2008|05:52 am] |
So far, India is not nearly as difficult to navigate as Sandy and I had expected (see her blog for details), and there are not nearly enough monkeys. Monkeys aside, everything has been lovely. We went to Agra to see the Taj Mahal yesterday, which lives up to every expectation. Poor Sandy has a bad head cold so she felt pretty crappy but at least I got to take a bunch of pictures of her blowing her nose in front of the greatest man-made structure in the world. I also am getting better at body-checking guys who cut in front of me in the train ticket line.
So far my favorite things here are potato cutlets and riding around in yellow and green auto-rickshaws. They're so fun. New Delhi traffic is like a live-action video game. Things jump out at you from all sides, everyone's going really fast, and every once in a while you have to dodge a cow. Like in that video game Cowgger. Right? |
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| Travel bloggery |
[Apr. 4th, 2008|02:23 pm] |
Hey turkeys!
I haven't been elljaying much lately, or really doing much of anything lately, because I've been busy complaining about winter in Reno and generally being a dour layabout. It's kind of a full-time gig. But now it's almost fake spring and I am embarking on a quest to spend all the money I've saved in the past two years. I rented a pricey house, bought a new car and now I'm going to India with my friend Sandy to eat all the food and ride all the monkeys.
I'm going to try to TRAVEL BLOG while I'm in the subcontinent, and if you're interested you should also check out Sandy's travel blog. All of the blogs will probably just be us talking about stuff we ate and complaining about how crowded everything is.
When I come back I'm going to be all enlightened and shit so you assholes better look out. (You also better step it up and DANCE). (I should never have gotten cable). |
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| Number one seed, my ass |
[Mar. 31st, 2008|08:10 pm] |
Ha ha Maryland! Ha ha ha ha! You got a number one seed and Stanford got a number two seed and now Stanford has handily crushed you into the ground like the not-number-one seed you are. I shouldn't be mean. After all, it's not your fault you got a number one seed--it's the fault of the NCAA idiots who only like the ACC. You know what is your fault, though? SUCKING! Oh crap, the mean came out again.
You don't really suck. Aside from that one thug, you play pretty clean (unlike Pittsburgh, ahem, booo) and your defense is respectable. I would feel sorry for you if I didn't hate your stupid coach so much. First of all, I have no patience for stompy yelly coaches who get technical fouls. This includes you, Trent Johnson. My eye's on you. It's tacky and counterproductive. Grow up, people.
Second of all, ooooooo, Maryland's coach had twins five weeks ago. What an inspiring story. She crapped out a couple of babies and then went back to work. If I hear about it one more time from these mongoloid announcers I'm grendeling my ears out (sidebar: why didn't you people convince me to go see Beowulf in 3-D when it was in theaters? Holy crap! Best Movie Ever! Beowulf comes out of the sea monster's eyeball! IN 3-D!!!)
So, yes, Maryland coach, you gave birth. From what I hear, women have been doing this for a while. Like since the beginning of time. Ooooo, and then you went back to COACHING! Which is basically standing around yelling at people. It's not like you went back to PLAYING basketball. Or working in a factory for minimum wage. You went back to doing something a lot of crazy guys do on the street corner for free.
This brings up a bigger issue I have with television coverage of women's sports. Oh yeah, if you've read this far without knowing what the hell I'm talking about, it's March Madness and my team is going to the Final Four woooooooo spring break! Why do the networks insist on shoving "human interest stories" down our throats? Listen, assholes, if we're watching a women's game it's because we like the women's game and we're excited it's actually on TV for once. If some lady happens to click by on her way to a Lifetime miniseries, she's not going to stop and watch a basketball game no matter how much your halfwit announcers scream "Look, not all of them are lesbians! This one had TWO BABIES! From having sex with a MAN!"
I know, I should just be grateful whenever they deign to show the fairer sex on ESPN at all (once a year, in between showing Texas Hold 'Em or a Magic: The Gathering tournament).
In conclusion: Stanford roolz, Maryland droolz! Fuck yoooooouuuu! |
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