The Definition of Disappointment

Do you notice anything wrong with this picture?

No, what's wrong is not the fact that that one dude is scratching "down there"...while being interrogated. It's also not wrong that he's smiling while doing it--because everyone who has ever been interrogated by a cop for raping a young, helpless girl scratches down there and smiles while being questioned. Certainly.

There's still something unsettling about this picture, though. The wrongdoing is tugging at my emotions and makes me want to cry. I cannot believe 20/20 has allowed this grave wrongdoing to appear on their show! Needless to say, I'm severely disappointed, 20/20.

You still don't see it?

Now do you see anything really, really wrong?

I was supposed to be watching 20/20's hour-long show on how a woman was stuffed in a suitcase, after being brutally raped, and dumped in a field left for dead. She survived. But as soon as I saw the horrid clip above, I lost any focus that I ever had (which was 46%) on the show. I just cannot say how let down 20/20 has made me feel. 20/20 is supposed to give insight into the world around us, that we may have not known otherwise, but all I can think of is how I can't trust this show as a news source if they can't even using correct spelling and punctuation. I've been watching 20/20 ever since Hugh Downs and Barbara Walters were the hosts, and never have I noticed mistakes on their show as I have within the past few weeks. What's up wit dat, yo?

Just in case you couldn't tell, my number one pet-peeve is when your and you're are used interchangeably. I don't care if you end your sentences with a preposition. I don't care if you start your sentence with because. I don't care if you overuse commas. I certainly don't care if your "sentence" isn't really a "sentence." Considering I write fragmented sentences all the time<---That's a sentence fragment. Heck, do I even care if you end a question with a period. Yes, but right now let's pretend that I don't.

You should never ever confuse your and you're because these two words have totally different meanings. Just as to, two, and too do. Just as there, their, and they're do. Just as hear and here do. Who's and whose. Then and than.

Confusing your and you're is like Eminem writing in his lyrics:

'Sup, homies?

I'm a wrapper.

Wanna be like me?

...Become a cracker.

But...he's NOT a wrapper--he's a rapper. How confused would his fans be if they read in People magazine, "Eminem, the wrapper, is touring San Francisco"? We wouldn't know whether Eminem had changed professions and now wraps gifts for a living. Or, we could think that People accidentally misprinted Eminem and it was supposed to say M&M. Then we start wondering to ourselves, I wonder why an M&M wrapper is on tour. What, did Justin Bieber touch it or something? Or, we could simply think whoever wrote that article is stupid because they don't know the difference between a rapper and a wrapper. Your homework assignment: Write a sentence using lose and another sentence using loose. Turn your homework into my comment section by 5 PM sharp.

To make it simple: you're=a contraction for the words you + are. So, anytime you would say "you are," you can just say you're.

Now that we've covered the your from the interrogation, it's time to move on to adding commas. Let's <------contraction for let + us look at this picture:

Which sentence do you think would be the correct sentence to use to describe this photo of Grams chewing on a piece of pizza?

Let's eat Grandma!

or

Let's eat, Grandma!

The first sentence is implying that you're shouting to your other family members that you're hecka excited to start chowing down on Grandma pizza. I know I'm a picky eater and all, but I don't think my grandma would taste very good.

But...I can infer from the second sentence that I'm yelling (because she can't hear) at Grandma that it's time to eat.

See how important commas are? Let's take a second look at our original sentence:

That's what your telling me right?

The above sentence makes virtually no sense. Confusion.

vs.

That's what you're telling me, right?

This is what I think you just told me. Am I correct? Muuuuuuch better.
 
Oh, and let me just say here and now that I wouldn't ever hire Elaine Benes to be my editor. My reasoning is based on one sentence I heard her say in one episode of Seinfeld: I could care less.

Okay, here we go. Another test. Is it:

I could care less

or

I couldn't care less

The second option is correct. If you "could care less", then why are you even talking about that subject??? When someone says this,  I couldn't care less about what they have to say because I'm so distracted by them saying I could care less. If you say "I COULDN'T care less," that means that there is nothing less that you care about. You're saying that you care so little already that you couldn't possibly care any less.

I'm willing to overlook your shortcomings, 20/20, if you promise not to disappoint again.

Oh, crap.

In other news, now that we're all in a cheery mood, head on over to Jess's blog to see my list of 10 Simple Things That Make Me Happy.

Fartin' Margaret

You’re back in eighth grade and your mom makes you sign up for Spanish so that you can be prepared to take Spanish I/Spanish II in high school, complete your foreign language requirement, and move on with your life. When I was in high school, I was the top student in my Spanish classes. Languages came naturally to me. But unlike his super talented foreign-language-learner sister, my brother despised Spanish. In fact, the only phrase he remembers years later from his invaluable Spanish classes is “callate la boca.” Also known as “shut your mouth.” I’m guessing he has heard this phrase one too many times.

There my brother is sitting in his eighth grade Espanol class, learning about flan and how people eat this nasty excuse for a dessert in Spanish cultures. Only 2 minutes ‘til the bell rings, yet time seems to be standing still.

“Flan doesn’t only come in vanilla.”

Tick tock.

“There is also chocolate flavored flan.”

Tick tooooooooooooooock.

“Personally, my favorite is vanilla, though. The texture of it is kind of like a custardy Jell-O. Hey, in fact, I think Jell-O has an instant mix of flan that even comes with caramel sauce!”

Tick toooooooooooooooooooooooooooock.

“I encourage you all to go home tonight and beg your mom to make you flan for dessert. Have her drop what she’s doing, have her go to the store, and buy instant flan mix. But…don’t tell her I told you to say that. Tell her that your education is very important to you and that if you try it you’ll get extra credit. TWO points extra credit!! Also, don’t forget, but your paragraph about your family is due tomorrow. Use your best Spanish.”

Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnng!

“Don’t forget, but you also need to include a drawing of your family!”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Here’s a drawing not dissimilar to what my brother turned in:

A few days after turning in his masterpiece, the flan-loving teacher asked to speak to my brother after class.

She probably just wants to congratulate me on how life-like my drawing looks. Or, worse, what if she found out I don't really have a dog?? Dang it, I should have said I have a pot-belly pig, that would've been more believable!

“El Niño, I have a question about your project. In your About My Family paragraph, it says here, ‘Fartin’ Margaret is mi perro. Ella es fea y vieja. Ella no stop yapping. Ella is smelly a tambien. We want to put her down.’”

I bet she’s wondering whether I’m having a hard time at home because I have to put my “ugly and old” dog down. That’s gotta be--she's probably a very sensitive person and wants to know how she can help--what else could it be?

“Now, son, did you know that my first name is Margaret?”

“Uh…no…wow, hmm...what a coincidence."

Yes, but I didn't think YOU'D know the dog was a symbolism for you.

“Here’s your hall pass. The principal’s expecting you.”

True story. My brother hated Spanish and his teacher so he decided to bring the passive-aggressive approach into his homework. Yes, he turned in a picture of a hecka (we Californians use this word sometimes) ugly dog, named it Fartin’ Margaret (after her), and handed it in as part of his “Mi Familia” project, not thinking that she would notice the subtle attack. I guess he was probably thinking she would react in a fashion where she would be overjoyed to know that one of her student’s dogs shared the same name as her. I don’t know. All I know is that my brother is witty. So, if you want to pass your eighth grade Spanish class, you can add an imaginary dog/pig/cow/rat/whatever to your family. Just make sure its name is Loveable Margaret—NOT Fartin’ Margaret. You don’t want to get into a stinky situation.

The Shining...Uh, I Mean the Shiner

Two days ago, I received what I thought would now be a shiner. Fortunately, it didn't turn into a black eye. Unfortunately, for the past two days it hurt as though I had a black eye. Fortunately, it doesn't hurt now. Unfortunately, I still have a little tiny bruise. Fortunately, I can cover it up with makeup. Unfortunately, I'm basically out of cover-up makeup. Fortunately, I don't have a hot date this week where I would be self-conscious about the teeny tiny bruise on my face. Unfortunately, I don't have a hot date this week...or for the next five years.



Oh, I guess you're wondering HOW, exactly, I received what I thought would now be a shiner.
Listed below are the options. There may seem to be more than one right answer, but there isn't. Choose the one answer that seems most correct.

A. I walked into a pole.

B. I got into a brawl with some gangstas because they said that I shouldn't be dissing Like a G6...so, they threw a shoe at me and it hit me in the eye. And it hurt. Really bad.

C. I was going to give someone a high-five but we missed each other's hands and their hand consequently hit me in the face. I hit them in the stomach.

D. I was at work with a new student to our class who has a hard time with transition. She's still in the transition phase, actually, from moving to a new school. She has lots of temper tantrums and is really stubborn. So, when it came time for her to come my table to work on her letter sounds, she was in a bad mood since it was work time. She does not like work time. She likes play time. And right before coming to my table it was play time, so this was a very hard transition for her to make. She was wanting to get out of her chair and roll on the floor and scream and cry. I sat directly behind her, pinning her chair between my chair and the table. Did I ever think that this little girl could be strong? Not really. But she was a fast little bugger. And, a strong little bugger, I might add (she must have lots of experience doing what she did to me) because out of nowhere. WHAM! Right smack in my face is the back of her head. Where did this girl learn to headbutt? So not cool. So unexpected. So painful. Luckily, I was wearing my glasses so they may have blocked the blow to my eye. I'm also lucky she didn't break my glasses, because glasses are expensive to replace! Then, after her whacking to my face, she rubs the back of her head as if she's hurt. Hmm...maybe if it hurts you shouldn't do it. Just my opinion. Anyways, to sum up this choice: D. I was headbutted by a second grade girl.

And the answer is *drum roll, please*

A! If you said A you're correct! You just won an invisible over-the-internet-hug-by-a-stranger. Aren't you glad you played this game?

Okay, okaaaaay, sorry. A is not the most correct answer. That would seem to be the most probable answer to me, but alas, the most correct answer is D (I hope that answer wasn't too obvious).

All I can say is that it's too bad this whole incident didn't happen before picture day. The tiny bruise I have on my face would have made my picture all the more beautiful. And then I would have on record that I have actually been in a fight. Well, I didn't fight back or anything, but I could say I've been attacked...but I would just leave out the fact that it was by a 40 pound second grade girl. Those little facts don't really matter that much, anyway. Right? Right.

Like a Cheese Stick

I put on a radio station from the TV that was called Y2K Hits. Obviously I'm not caught up on what's cool nowadays because a song came on that I thought was peculiar...for being a "hit", especially during this day in age. Yet, this random hip-hop song was totally my style. Frankly, I was surprised that I had never heard of it before...because the song's chorus was just that spectacular.

The chorus that I heard went like this:

Now I'm feeling so fly like a cheese stick.
Like a cheese stick,
like a cheese stick.
Now I'm feeling so fly like a cheese stick.


What has gotten into hip-hop artists now to where they go from "singing" about money, skanks, cars, bullets, and ghettos to about mozzarella sticks? I could really get into this new fad they're in right now. Singing about food? Sounds good to me--especially if their next song is about pizza, cake, or mashed potatoes (wouldn't that be interesting?).

I just HAD to look up these lyrics because I thought the lyrics were just too good to be true. Much to my disappointment,

the actual lyrics went like this:

Now I'm feeling so fly like a G6
Like a G6,
like a G6.
Now I'm feeling so fly like a G6.

I see hip-hop artists have stuck with their same old topics of money, skanks, cars, bullets, ghettos, and the like. Can't they ever go out of the box just once and make a song about mozzarella sticks? I liked that version so much better. Yo, G's, you have let me down. Until you start singing about cheese sticks, pizza, cake, or mashed potatoes, then for now I'm going to stick to my own little world and listen to cheesy songs.

An Ode (Except Not Really) to the Hottest Grandma on the Net

August 2007

Who would combine puka shells with a purple/teal-mixed-animal-print blouse? None other than my grams! You have to admit they look great together too. To top off the outfit just throw on a tilted hat...ah, now the look's complete. This is just another ordinary picture that I have of Grams. But what's not so ordinary is the story behind the picture. Story time, children. Like, really, take a deep breath, relax, and take off your socks because they're about to be blown away...unless you've already taken your socks off, that is.

A few years ago I was bedridden due to major surgery. What to do with all my free time? Join hotornot.com of course! But, naturally, I would never join that site, so I had this brilliant idea to post a picture of Grams--the exact same picture in this post--on that site.

Her profile:

Username: SugaMoma
Age: 22
About Me: 'Sup, homie Gs? I'm looking for my gangsta love. He must love being spoiled. Rapping career a must (that way he could serenade with sweet lullabies like Eminem's "Mockingbird"). Must drive a cadillac--the lower the better. Sometimes it's hard getting into those things. Must be willing to call me Shawty. I'd appreciate it if he frequently throws up the Westside sign in my presence. Must sag his drawers regularly as if he has a loaded diaper--I feel accomplished playing the role of a mamacita. Bonus: have at least one gold tooth. Hollaback, dawgs. Word.

Success! She had wannabe rappers writing her from all over the country and to top it all off, her "hot or not" rating was an average in the high 8s (now I feel special when people tell me I look exactly like her)! I suspect, though, that she was receiving such high scores because there were 90 year old men on that site who came across her picture and thought she was the most beautiful creature the Internet had ever seen. Or, I'm not going to rule this out either; but maybe, just maybe, she was receiving such high scores because her profile and picture were hilarious. No, I think the first scenario is more likely. Unfortunately, some little party-pooper had to go along and report my grandma's picture to the authorities, and needless to say, we were banned from that site because a picture of a little "old" lady was in the same category with girls in their 20s, and that's clearly against the rules. Shame. Who says 22 year olds can't have wrinkles?

A couple of months ago I went with my friend to her ward's opening social and had to play one of those "get-to-know-you" kind of games...you know, the games you try to avoid. In an attempt to try and spice up the question, What's one thing you've done that you don't think anyone else in this room has ever done before?, I told everyone who came to me with a pencil and paper (I would never tell this story to people in my ward) that I had posted my gram's picture on that wretched site. By the end, everyone had known that my grams is HOT (mainly because the person in charge of the social read my answer out loud to the whole entire group, thanks). I guess the person in charge of the social gathering would rate my quirky story as an 8.8--you have to admit, though, that hearing about someone's grandma attracting rappers is 11 times more interesting than learning that someone climbed Mount Everest. Pshh. The Mount Everest story would probably only rate at a 5.3.

Now when someone comes up to Grams and says, You're so cute!, she now knows to respond with Actually, I'm hot. Just ask the Internet.

***No grandmas were harmed in the making of this blog.