Thursday, December 2, 2010

I just found a retard in Idiot City!

Yoville. Farmville. Fishville. Restaurant City. Toilet Town. Idiot City. Population: YOU.
They're facebook games, they're newsfeed spam, they're horror disguised in inoccent wrapping paper. They're goshdarn annoying!!
Seriously. If you find it a pressing matter to tell your friends how many levels you've advanced in retrograding your IQ, something's wrong with you. No phrase can make such resonating universal sense than "Get a Life" , and one outside your cyber realm. Besides these games taking your privacy away, they get a double reward- your brain and dignity tag along, too.
Why wasting precious time on crops you can't eat and animals you can't interact with be so appealing to millions baffles me. Whatever happened to real games? Games made from cardboard, stimulating puzzles, riddles, and the like? What happened to real conversation? Not just.. "Please accept my freshly picked carrots!" I mean Really. How accomplished can you really feel from tending a garden you can't even touch? Why not try the real thing? No time? Why not add up the time you spend watering crops?
Don't be a fail. Don't clutter my News Feed; because quite frankly, no one CARES if you "baked" a "scrumptious" cake on Restaurant City.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Dear Savage Animal Behind The Wheel

Dear brainless droid behind the wheel,
I'd like to give you a run down of several things you should take into consideration the next time you hit the road. I know you think Road Rules is just an old fascinating MTV show, but its more than just that. It's actually a code of funny little standards that save people lives and livers on the road. I understand you received your license from the last Lucky Charm cereal box. So I'm going to pay a deed to society and teach you the basics. Hey, I may also help you save 15% or more on your car insurance. Let's churn them out, shall we?
  • BLINKERS- That miniature baseball bat looking thing under your nose serves a purpose. A quite dignified one, I'd like to think. They're called blinkers. And that little stick makes the prettiest red lights blink on your backlights- either left or right, depending which way you have to turn. That way, myself, and all the other 987696 cars on the road know why on God's green earth you'll be swerving in front of us and making our foot very well acquainted with the brake. It may sound like Chinese to you, or even Intelligent English, but I promise you gratitude will swell in our hearts when you acknowledge the usefulness of the blinkers- as our necks will no longer whiplash.
  • BRAKES- There's no reason to tap your brakes everytime you breathe or for every altering moment on the road. The light is as green as your teeth so keep a reasonable speed ahead, please! There's no reason to fear that other cars are stopped next to you. They happen to be on the turning lane. You happen to be on the "drive forward for Heaven's sake!" lane.  So step on it, Bucky.
  • MERGE LANE- Say it with me, MERGE lane. That means you can slide unto that wide margin coming off or into the road. Please don't feel the need to wait until the road is as desolate as your mind to join the crowded lane. Just drive buddy, and you will see how smooth the transition can be.
  • Txting While Driving- Epic Fail and Epic Danger. Slowing down traffic, driving dangerously close to the wrong sides, and braking right on my bumper. Put the phone down. Whomever it is will live to see another day if you don't respond "Ok!" or "Idk. hby?" in a matter of minutes. A single texted response may be worth more than your life, but certainly not more than mine, so be considerate of the rest of us, whom would like to see another day. And preferably another day without you.
If you follow my directions, you'll make the road a better place to share with all lower forms of life. And no, I don't mean roadkill
Peace. Glad we had this convo..

Monday, November 29, 2010

Jacked Friday

Nothing creates more hysteria than black friday sales. Scores of stores are crammed to the roof with obsessed shoppers on a craze for things they don't need.. or for that matter, can fit into their trunk.
I sat there in the parking lot of Wal Mart, early Friday morning, (no.. I wasn't shopping..) and I just had to laugh at the ridonkulous people to be seen.
Huge LCD TVs and other odds and ends lumbered over their shopping carts, nearly toppling to the floor. After they arrive at their vehicle, they realize to their dismay, that their junk can't fit in their trunk. You'd think they'd have the parameters of their car down packed. You'd think they'd calculate the area of their new treasures would snugly fit in their hatchback car. But of course, they wait to the last minute and get all frustrated when they realize their coveted objects can't be jammed in their piggy bank. Fail!
It's cute people actually think they're getting a good deal, when in fact the prices are just super jacked up most of the time, and then dropped slightly to make for an AWESOME!!! bargain. To make matters worse, some splurge happy shoppers wait in line for hours and then right at register time, realize the In-Store price was different than the advertised price, of course, had they read the fine print below the fine print, they would have seen, "AFTER MAIL IN REBATE".
All I have to say is Black Friday is Jacked Friday. Both for the merchants who profit and for the ones who stay out all night, stand sit and lay in colossally long lines and then purchase something that's 10 dollars less than the best price.
Cyber Monday, however.. is a different story. About time someone came up with a smart, profitable idea :)


Friday, October 29, 2010

Photo No-Nos

Since the era of everything digital, picture taking and sharing became a hobby, a passion, and now, every day life. It's no mystery who's at the top of the social network food chain, destroying lives and privacy and making others cyber famous. But when something becomes widely spread and accesible and fairly unlimited and unrestricted, you have to wonder what the cost will be- both short-term and long-term. 

Well, there's the obvious issues-(i.e. hackers, identity theft, loss of privacy,) which have been covered thoroughly. But let's look at the here and now. Should you really be posting every picture you take? There are pieces of wisdom that are always good to remember: Nothing on the internet is ever truly deleted. That's right, that odd album you had with your crazy ex and his family is still swinging in cyberspace somewheres. Nothing is ever completely private (bugs and kinks in the system do happen). So one day, you may log in and very well see someone else's account. Now what? And of course, there's the personal worth issues.
  • No, we don't want to see your bathroom pictures. Bathrooms are for pooping, peeing, washing and bathing. They are not supposed to be the backdrop to all your digital glory. And if you do decide to take a picture where you usually take a dump, make sure there aren't any accesories in the background that can label you for life.
  • 4234 angles of your face. This is especially suited for you tween and teenage dimboppers who are attention-happy (for lack of a worse word) zombies. We understand you want the world to take in your pimpled beauty and Crisco face. I get it, it only happens once. But let's try to limit it to 10 pictures instead of 28302 with stupid irrelevant and obvious captions like, "This is Me" "jUstT mE!" "me AgAin!" Save yourself and the world some heartache, cuz boy when you grow up, Peter Puberty, you're gonna want to delete yourself from the physical realm.
  • Aww, you two are so cute! NOT. So you found someone in this world with surprisingly lower self esteem than you. Two idiots + camera is not the most favorable equation. I'm not sure how to put it clearer: You're confusing me with someone who cares. Again, I get it.. its a beautiful thing to be in lust. But save your urges of sharing it with the rest of us, because frankly, you're getting on everyone's nerves.
This is why we, the older generations, have a One-Up in today's society. Yea, we all took dorky videos and pictures, but they were safeguarded in mom's album where only family and close friends got to courteously giggle and make a generous comment, like, "My, isn't Prissy growing up!" while you turned all colors of the rainbow. 

Now with the ability of right click and save, your horrid snapshots are floating in the universe, available to the point and laugh of anyone. Be careful, or you may just see your face wind up in the next party on a slideshow of epic fails :)

Thursday, October 28, 2010

De-wisdom-ized

This chick did the right thing. Ice, rest, and gauze.
DISCLAIMER:
The views herein expressed are solely the opinion of Nina, and not any medical or proffessional directive or treatment to prevent or diagnose illness. You are at your own risk for applying the following tips.
Friday the 22nd of October was quite possibly one of the most miserable days of my life. I would say maybe #3.
During the procedure, I started to hyperventilate. I couldn't control my lungs or my breathing. I got about five novicane shots, laughing gas, and conscious sedation.  When I got out of the surgery, I almost toppled forward. I felt like I had two sucker punches straight to my jaw.
And as soon as I got home, and most of the stuff wore off, it was hell on earth for the following six hours. No position I laid in I found comfortable. The worst part was the gauze.. it felt ooey and wet and just plain out gross inside my mouth. 

So herefore I've gathered some do's and dont's for those of you that have this rite of passage in the future..
  • DO get drugged as SOON as you wake up. Pop pop pop those happy pills! And hopefully they make you drowsy enough to sleep through the six hours of excruciating misery before the sedation wears off.
  • DON'T lay on your cheeks. Sounds obvious, but on the car ride home I rested my face on the car seat and slept for 20 mins, and when I woke up I was swimming in a medium sized pool of blood and drool. Gross, I know.  
  • DON'T take the gauze out inmediately. I did and ended up swallowing a lot of blood, which in turn made me throw up about 9 times. It was neither comfortable nor visually pleasing.
  • DO put an ice pack on your face, the sooner the better. It will numb the pain and keep the swelling down, too.
  • DO eat something with your pill. I survived on tapioca, jell-o, and sweet mashed potato with cream cheese and butter.
  • DON'T spit or drink through a straw.
  • DON'T conquer the world the 2nd day. That includes any strenuous activity- EVEN talking. I was also moving that weekend, and because vycodin gave me a sense of false security and carefree-ness, I lugged boxes to our 3rd floor apt and ate chicken. And I paid with massive throbbing headaches and sharp shooting pain in my cheeks and gums.
  • DON'T sleep face down, even if doesn't hurt when you do it. Once the pill wears off, and feeling comes back, you'll be howling in the middle of the night thrashing like a blind deer with rabies searching for your next pill.
  • DO brush your teeth as often as comfortable. Clean mouth equals less chance for infection, equals less agony.
  • DO keep popping the happy pills as often as you need them. I'm on my 7th day, and I STILL have pain, especially when I wake up in the morning. So I'm making my transition from Vycodin to Motrin today.
  • If you have an oral rinse, over the counter or prescription, DO use it. It will kill the microbes and keep your mouth clean and remove excess food when your brush can't do the job to get those hard to reach swollen places.
  • DO keep putting warm cloths or bottles on your face.
For more tips and ideas of what to expect, follow the link here.
As I gather more pearls of wisdom, I will share them with my dear readers. I apologize for the lapse between blogs, but between my move and the surgery, I've been out of network for a while. Onward and forward- for Ninfamous McChimpmunk Face will not let her public down! :)
This is what all 4 of my impacted teeth looked like. If yours are also impacted, and growing in crooked, you may be next!

Thursday, October 21, 2010

This Fool is Out of Order

Well, less than 24 hours from now, I'm going to be in a world of excruciating pain. 

No, it's not a Miley Cyrus concert. It's my wisdom teeth removal. All four. All impacted. (Where will all my classic wit go?)

Thank heaven for painkillers and anesthesia. 

Hopefully I'll be back to blogging on Monday as usual. And it will probably be a whole lotta complaining and griping about my soon-to-be-chipmunk face.  :)

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Technology is our Demise

I can see it now: a cheesy, low-budget sci fi movie, made for tv. Huge awkward styrofoam cellphone monsters decimate humanity with laser beams, while mammoth copy machines xerox our brains against the glass until we die..

It may sound ridiculous but technology is our demise. Now hear me out, I'm not taking for granted how they've simplified my life. I understand they've made wonderful advances for humanity, especially in the medical field. In fact, I don't know how more crazy I'd be without the ability to blog at my fingertips. They allow us to gain time, they keep us connected. (I.e. toothbrush, E-Z pass, toilet paper, cellphones)  But I believe technology has become more than a helpful tool, more than accesories to facilitate our life.

They are also simplifying our brains.

Think I'm exxagerating? How many phone numbers can you recite by memory? Less than 10? Less than 5? Do you have trouble remembering even yours? When was the last time you played a game with another flesh and bone person, instead of a computer? How often do you learn how to get to places by memory and map? When was the last time you bought a physical book? When was the last time you wrote a letter? Can you spell check your own paper?

Perhaps you're starting to think i'm old fashioned. But it's not that I'm rejecting technology because it replaces a past form of lifestyle. The former activities, like playing a game of chess with someone, finding a good book and reading it cover to cover, sitting down and finishing a puzzle, and scanning a map to find a route actually stimulated the brain and promoted interaction between people. People had less memory problems, less socially-awkward issues, and aged with a more capable mind. Younger generations didn't suffer carpal tunnel syndrome. But all we do now is use our fingertips. Tap, touch, press :video games, qwerty keyboards, touchscreens, keyboards, etc.  The more technological accesories we implement in our life, the more brain power we subtract and the more physical problems we add.

Picture this typical setting. Another way over use of technology stunts our brains. You have a gathering at your house. You invite a variety of friends of all age groups. What are the younger ones doing? What are the older ones doing? Perhaps you'll notice a trend. To avoid breaking the ice and seemingly awkward small-talk, the younger generations enclose themselves in a cocoon of technology. Ipod in and volume up, phone in hand, fingers flying away in rapid text mode and mind deprived of healthy conversation that contributes to growing as an individual, creating not only a rift in generations, but a division of worlds, and a deplorable halt in mental growth.

Back to the another accesory. Your GPS. It now has become the background noise in most vehicles, guiding you from your house to your job, to your house. But one day, according to the magical law of Murphy, you'll be in a strange part of town, because the route you usually take is closed. Your GPS has overheated and broken down, your cellphone has no signal and draining battery, and the floodgates in heaven have opened forth a torrential downpour. Lucky you, lost in the middle of nowhere. Now what? If only you had trusted your friend, Rand McNally, and kept a couple of maps handy. But will you even know how to read them?

For more cons on technology, visit this website.



Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Like Screeching In My Ear

There's only so much you can rant about before you upset someone. And I think the time has come for me! I sit there pushing scan on my radio, listening to pieces of garbled horribly super synthesized "songs." They call it music. I call it verbal diarrhea.

"Baby I like it
The way you move on the floor
Baby I like it
Come on and give me some more"


Really? How many times have we heard that in a pop song? My tolerance for Enrique Igaysias is slowly coming to an end. Back in the day, he actually had substanstial songs, about love and loss. Now he's down there sucking scum with Pitbull making the world's deepest music, howling and recording his screechy voice on every refried pop beat.

"You know what it is girl, we back up in this thang
Money stay in my pocket, girl, I'm like a walkin' bank
Tell me whatcha drank, tell me whatcha thank
If I go get these bottles, we go alcohol insane"


Wow. Edgar Allan Poe doesn't have jack on these guys. "I'm like a walkin' bank" is definitely the most clever simile I've heard in a while.So you rip people off with high interest loans and then go bankrupt and fail on everyone who depends on you? And somehow the idea of a jerk loaded with money and alcohol makes me think they could care less what you "thank"..

"If I could write you a song to make you fall in love,
I'd already have you under my arm.."

If only you could, Mike Posner, if only you could. Except those horrendous 80s glasses that look like retro tv screens are blocking all direct sunlight to your rotting brain. Except you're hopping aimlessly in a room full of flakers and posers and caring too much what the mindless think. Why don't we set our sights lower, perhaps writing a valentine card. Here's mine for you. 

"Roses are red, violets are blue,
I'd poke my veins all day
before I listen to you." 

I give up. If these three songs were the exception, I would give radio a chance. But unfortunately, they're not solely to blame, because most songs are variations of this refuse. Its back to listening to old CDs and my Ipod, stocked with Armin Van Buuren's State of Trance. Techno and all its wonderful branches.. it still hasn't let me down.

Monday, October 18, 2010

The Hi-Res Challenged

We all have them on our friend list on Facebook. We have all seen them on other friend's lists. We've seen, admired, clicked, and gasped. Yikes. Definitely looked better in a thumbnail.

That's right. This blog is dedicated to the Hi-Resolution Challenged, the Pixelated Pretty, and the altogether Thumbnail Fabulous. Here's a rant, just for them.


Dear Visually Awkward Person,


Life hasn't been easy for you, but now, you have a lot of appreciating to do. When at one point people would stare and laugh in your face, now they just have to click and giggle. And you won't hear a thing.

I see you carefully positioned yourself in clever lighting, caked yourself with pounds of makeup and held the camera at an odd to decipher angle while you took and erased 342 pictures. But let's face it. Number 343 isn't any better. And while thumbnails make you look semi decent, once we click your name, it's all over.

Right smack before our eyes lies the naked truth, in all its glory. Now we have two options, hurl into a paper bag, or quickly reboot the computer.

You think you're being clever.. but we all know you're only digitally lovely. The rest of your time is spent in the dark cold cave of your room hiding from humanity. Don't worry, it's only a matter of time before facial masks are created and accessible to aesthetically less fortunate. Meanwhile, keep counting your blessings and stop pasting that thing on your head you call a face all over the internet.

Thanks, glad we had this convo.

Prancing with the Injured

Okay, so we all know celebrities are not amongst society's fanciest and respectable group of people. But when it comes to broadcasting your humiliation nationwide, the Spanish version of "Dancing with the stars" known as "Mira Quien Baila! (Look who's dancing)" takes the cake. 
Overrated news anchors, B-list soap opera daytime Emmy winners, and long non-heard of fading singers are all cast on a dance floor in front of a camera and told to get jiggy with it. But oh, the drama! Front and center are the accidents. Last night, Jon Secada flopped on his knee, during his visually painful performance, after failing to catch his partner, and immediately formed a riot as he bawled and winced on all fours like an abandoned puppy. And instead of calling it a day, he was ushered out AGAIN to do some awkward robot-duck-bread-making routine to David Bisbal's Buleria. 
Niurka Marcos, however, didn't even show up after last week's knee injury to add to the caked up faked out show. Its sad to say that Dancing with the Stars is a much better show, and the featured celebrities normally come from countries where multi-cultural dancing is not taught from the womb. So why are these so called Hispanics making the rest of us look so horribly bad? They should spend less time paying plastic surgeons to fix their droops and tighten their sloops and more time learning how to tango.
I weep for the future of television..

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Signed, Stamped, & Branded

When you think of being branded, what comes to mind? Uncle Ben's cows maybe, with that odd number on their behind. Or maybe the prisoners of the Nazi era, with an ID number stamped on their arm. They were not human, not personal individuals, they were "numbers". 
Well folks, its happening all over again in the US. These days, you aren't anyone without your SS#. Its your form of identification, even for things that are more social than they are secure. Why is it that everyone, from your landlord to your dentist, wants to know every detail of your life? Why is it that its so easy for someone to steal your identity, and then so hard to correct it? 
Everytime we open a bank account, we file taxes, we go to a doctor's appointment, we fill out a job application, we sign a contract.. there are those very nine digits on paper for the world to see. After you fill out 3490 pages of medical history and your whole life story, some careless receptionist stacks it on a pile where you didn't even see Joe Schmo walk by and jot down your digits. 
We always hear "Don't carry your SS card with you!", but there is no need to have it on hand for it to be stolen. And I speak from experience. Somehow, even with a mother who is paranoid about destroying and shredding any piece of information before throwing it away, someone nabbed my number, and used it to mortgage homes. After begging the SS offices to look into it, and writing dozens of letters, and making dozens of phone calls.. here I am on the same boat. Everytime I ask for a credit report, they point to me as the mysterious one. Yeah me, the teenage fraudulent mastermind that purchased a home at age 8.
Where are the laws protecting us? Why aren't they being enforced when broken? Why are people so careless? Last month, I accompanied my mom to the doctor's appointment, and the lovely registrar was shouting from a little cubicle to the crowd of patients, "What's your addresss?! Why ya here today? When's ya birthdate?! Okay thanks!"
I sat there and scoffed in utter disbelief. Really? Like we all need to know why Jane McDentures has an itch she can't scratch and that she lives on Old People Hill, Apt 231.... Besides being a disrespect to the person's privacy, in two shakes of a lamb's tail, I could have stalked her, figured out her social, dug through her trash and hit the jackpot.
Maybe one day, a light bulb will click upstairs, and the laws protecting our privacy will tighten up.
Right after Tupac, Elvis, Michael Jackson and Biggie host next year's Halftime.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Light after Darkness: Chilean Miners Rescued

Imagine feeling locked in the deep darkness of the earth. Little light, scarce food, and no way of telling the world outside that you're alive, and need to be rescued. Imagine how disheartening it can be, slowly rotting inside a rocky deathbed.
On August 5th, 2010, the world seemed to stop for 33 men. After a freak explosion, a group of miners were trapped in the dark abyss of a cave, 2200 feet below the surface. Would they ever see their families again? Would they ever feel the sun upon their skin? The loved ones- losing hope , and fearing the worst, thought it was the end.
Yet, 69 days later.. the dream came true. Through an ingenious contrivance, a life-size cage named "The Phoenix" was lowered down to their cold dark prison. Today, the 13th of October, Victor Segovia, miner number 15, is getting his hospital revision. The world watches on, enthralled and captivated as one by one, these men arise from the heart of the earth- and are reunited emotionally with their loved family. 
15 down, 18 to go! Now what's ever going to happen to number 21, the fellow who has a wife, and a lover! Uh-oh...
To watch live, click here!
Victor Segovi Rising from the ground
Miners Reunited with Family




The Phoenix Cage








Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Can I have ya numba?

Oh, the intricacies of men and women fraternizing! So you ran into Mikey after leaving the post office, you know, Mikey from High School? The kid that repeatedly tried to ask you on a date leaving notes in your locker, your car, your front door, your bedroom window..

We deal with it all the time. Its one of the common issues of modern society. After a mediocre conversation, a happenstance meeting, or even reconnecting with an old friend through facebook. Its only a matter of chats before the dreaded question  arises:

 "Can I have your number?"
So there you are, staring at the kid, now man, you really didn't care about meeting again. His teeth look like they scared away the bravest toothbrush, and his hair still the disheveled bum look.
In a nutshell, your answer is "There's not enough beer in the world, buddy.." But if you're like me, and millions of other women too nice to shut you down cold, you're stuck in Awkwardville America, tugging at your hair and thinking how on EARTH am I going to get out of this?

Before I turned 18 I just had to just say my age, or refer to my parent's rules, and that would scare them off like a bucket of ice cold scorpions. But now that I don't have the protection of the law, here I lie vulnerable. Or do I? You could always break open a twix. And as you stuff your mouth with it, you mumble something
about having to be somewhere and something something facebook while running backwards at the speed of light. 

It may work in this instance. But what if you don't have a twix? Or what if you can't leave, because the Universe is against you, and you're at a party, and your friend, now MIA is the one who gave you a ride? 
  • Email. Ah, the impersonal loveliness of an email. Hand out your gmail, tell them you'll catch up with them later. And now you have the liberty of clicking "Block User" or "Report Spam".
  • Google Voice. Quite possibly the nicest way to evade people you love as much as you love a root canal. When you set up a google voice number, you get to choose your lucky 7 digits, and then it just gets better. With features like Mobile Voicemail, you can send someone to voicemail inmediately, and then as you have a change of heart listening in to their long drawn out snooze that you want to subtract your dignity and self esteem and speak to them, you can, by clicking a button. Or, you can just delete or deactivate your google voice number and never hear from the loozas again. 
  • Fakebook. Now everyone, even pets, (pitiful) has a cyber identity. So tell them to find you on FB- although, disclaimer: You'll only get rid of the issue temporarily, like putting a cat in a closet. Eventually they'll poke the heck out of you until you implode and give in. Or block and delete :)
  • Rejection Hotlines. Hey, no one said it was nice! But when it comes to dropping hints, this one will fall gracefully like an antvil plummeting from the bright blue skies. One of my personal favorites: 973-409-3267 the "I do not hook up" rejection complete with Kelly Clarkson wailing in the background. However, this wonderful website compiles local rejection hotlines for those who may be suspicious about the different area code. 
Well my amigos, I hope this has helped. If you have any other ideas, funny stories, or commentary, find me on my facebook page and hit up the discussion boards. 
Toodles!

Monday, October 11, 2010

Txtng has dstryd us!

I used to be able to type messages rather fluently. In fact, once upon an aeon, my friends used to call me Grammar Police. So why is it that now I can't resist abbreviating and re-abbreviating my text messages?

Text message language is just another world on its own. B3fo43 !+ \/\/@$ +@|_|< !|\|5 like this. Now its even more annoying and less legible.

"Hey! Hru, btw, lmk f u wanna hang 2nite.. Idk f Jen wil go, changbtm (call her and get back to me). tkcr c U sn"

The purpose of messages is to shorten the amount of time used to communicate. And instead, it has shortened communication and multiplied the amount of time it takes to comprehend the dialect.

And when did bestie become a term? I'm not even drinking age and I don't remember when it became hip to use bestie. Then again, to use hip hasn't been hip since hip became the body part. :/

How many other terms and abbreviations can you guys think of? I'm thinking of creating a Texting Terminology Glossary :P It may help the outdated like me and frustrated parents who read their kid's txt msgs while the world is sleeping..