Monday, September 21, 2009

To-do list.

Pull the plug, cut the cord, break bad habits, yip out all the bad vibrations, lose your vices, break the chains, break the cycle, break away, know your limits, save yourself, take care of yourself, live your life.

Friday, September 4, 2009


Every time I hear an ice cream truck, I get sad. It sounds like my youth slipping further and further away. I want to go chase it but then I remember I'm not 5 anymore.

In other news, alcohol poisoning is a sure way to become acquainted with your own mortality.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

First day of school blues

Tomorrow is my first day of junior year in college. I am so over first days of school. It's taken me 20 years to officially become immune to the back-to-school excitement; the school supplies/clothes shopping, etc. Each first day of school is supposed to mark a fresh start. I always remember fussing over what I would wear and the kind first impression I would make, especially on my first day of school at college-which is embarassing to think about now. My sophomore year was a little better. I just wanted to appear cool, collect, and confident. It's all about faking it. I've been through a hell of a lot in the past year, and this semester I just want to concentrate on getting through all of my work and classes alive. I'm too tired to try and be the outgoing, friendly girl that I normally am. I just want to survive. I guess I'm officially jaded. School is just work. I need to maintain my strength and health as much as possible to last for as long as I need it to.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Inglourious Basterds

Disclaimer: I am not, nor do I claim to be, superior to the average audience-goer. I can't say my intelligence is any higher than the people who take the time to read this, either. On the contrary, I admit to being a bit of a horror enthusiast myself, and have seen my share of disgusting 'torture porn' films, and have been long desensitized to watching extreme gore onscreen; a result of my brother and I watching Stephen King films and 'slasher' movies when we were nine. I have always admired Quentin Tarantino, and although I admittedly bought my ticket to Inglourious Basterds knowing that it was some kind of Jewish/Nazi revenge film, I wasn't expecting to be as disturbed and revolted by the film as I was.

The following rant contains SPOILERS, though I don't think any of them would come to a shock if you know what the film is about.

Here's my problem. The premise of this film is pretty simple. It's 1940s German-invaded France. The Germans hate the Jews, and vice versa. The 'Bastards' hate Germans, and want to deform/humiliate/kill/destroy them all. And so they do, and by the end of the film they've blown a cinema full of Germans (including Adolf Hitler) to high hell. Disturbing, yes, of course. Do most people have an aversion to silently cheer for the 'Basterds' to avenge all that were horrifically murdered in The Holocaust? Of course. We've been ingrained to despise any people that would attempt a mass genocide, regardless of race, gender, sexuality, et cetera.

So why is it that during the scene when about three hundred Germans are locked in a movie theater that is on fire, the audience is laughing and cheering? How come at the very last scene, when Brad Pitt's character brands a swastika into the forehead of a German soldier, everyone whoops and hollers? It's one thing to be amused by outrageous, absurd violence (take Tarantino's Deathproof, which is paired with Robert Rodriguez's Planet Terror, for instance. Both are extremely gory and violent, but neither are rooted in American History, so unless you're a zombie, it's hard to really take offense to them). Anyone with an education above middle school (or anyone that reads, or watches television, for that matter), knows the extent of the atrocities committed against the Jews. No one would dare make The Holocaust into a comedy. Does that make it okay to fight fire with fire? If we are responding to violence with violence and torture with torture, who are we really 'avenging'? It's not so much as revenge, as a drainage of dignity. In one of the final scenes of the movie, the Germans are laughing at the film that depicts a German soldier shooting hundreds of soldiers. It is piggish and revolting, to see an image of Adolf Hitler laughing at his own genocide. But what does it say about any generic audience that hysterically laughs and applauds in the next scene where all of the Germans are slaughter/ burned alive in a theater? It only makes us hypocrites. The Jews were incinerated in gas chambers. No one is laughing about that. How are we any different than the 'evil' German characters portrayed onscreen if we are doing exactly what they are doing-taking pleasure in the slaughter of a people? Have we become so desensitized that even a film that actually takes root in no doubt one of the most horrific events in human history cannot shock us? It's disturbing to me, to be surrounded by audience members that are in hysterics and clapping when a German soldier gets his head obliterated by a baseball bat.

All of this being said, it doesn't take away from the fact that Tarantino is a brilliant director, and in my opinion the film was wonderfully shot, the casting was perfect, and the soundtrack was outstanding. However, I can't imagine how at one point someone proposed a film about Jews killing Nazis, and someone else thought it was marketable. The film is simply two and a half hours of hypocritical, nonsensical violence and humiliation whacked back and forth between two equally enraged and vengeful groups of people.

Let's jump a head from World War Two for a second and take a look at the current war in Iraq. Does anyone remember when these photos were posted in The New York Times?

Was anyone laughing when these photos were published? On the contrary, these pictures were met with revolt and disgust, and the soldiers responsible for the rape, sodomy, and humiliation of these Iraqi prisoners were tried for them. I don't know about all of you, but I think that it's pretty darn similar to the intent of this:
It's one thing to laugh at the past. It's quite another to insult it. But then again, I'm just a twenty something college student who loves cinema. You make draw your own conclusions...but I dare anyone to tell me that I'm simply overreacting and shouldn't be disturbed by an audience's reaction to this film.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Why people should be more like dogs and sniff each other's butts

I spent some quality time with me, myself & I in the dog park today. I think I'm the equivalent of a child molester at a dog park, except I don't want to molest the dogs, I just want to be in their presence. I love when some dogs are clearly not into the other dogs and they randomly seek out strangers. This one dog came up to me and just sat next to me smiling, and he was clearly uninterested in the gang-rape of a Shitzu that was going on. He just smiled at me and tried to stick his nose in my bag. This shitzu must've sprayed on some Axe or something before he left the house, because nearly every dog his size in the park was trying to get it on with him. At some point a terrier was humping his FACE. His owners just kept yelling 'Run, Charlie, run!' like he was Forest Gimp Dog or something. I know to dogs, licking each other's balls is really no big deal, but this poor guy was seriously being sexually assaulted. This french bulldog was the lead horndog. Obviously he wasn't neutered, and was literally air-humping as he strutted around the park. No one would come forward to claim him, probably because no one wanted to admit that their dog was a serial rapist. The owner ended up being this quiet young girl. She kept apologizing to Charlie's owners and scolded her bulldog for assaulting every small animal in sight.

You know that scene in '101 Dalmatians' when Pongo is looking out the window and sees that all of the dogs look just like their owners? Well sometimes that's true. Sometimes I see Puggles that resemble their human parents. And sometimes I think that tiny little Nicole Ritchie-types look just like their neurotic Yorkies that they keep in those stupid little pocketbooks. I get it, I mean if I go more than a day without shaving I sometimes look like my Cairn Terrier. But you don't expect the dog rapist to belong to a tiny little girl in a dress. I rather expected to see some unassuming Jeffrey Dahmer-type come forward to claim him.

Sometimes I envy the way dogs socialize. They see each other, sniff each other's assholes, and within minutes, it's like they've known each other for years. There are some people I've known my whole life that I'm not THAT comfortable with. Dogs don't discriminate. (Let's disregard the scene in '101 Dalmatians' where the puppies are in blackface. The purebred doesn't ignore the Puggle just because it's biracial. And have you ever known a dog to be homophobic? I don't think so.

Going to the dog park is like zen for me. It's like reading a book that drools on you and occasionally humps your leg. Seeing all these poor city dogs let loose makes me so happy. It reminds me why I prefer animals to people.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

She's just not that into getting screamed at on the sidewalk

Dear asshole who called me beautiful, and then screamed in my face when I didn't reply;

I did not see your face, because I don't respond to creeps who cat call me on the street. But I'm sure you had an ugly mug that matched your hideous manners and frightful lack of respect for women. You're probably one of those sad types who lacked for love; maybe you weren't breastfed as a child or maybe your dad used to slap you around, so now because you feel so low, you decide to take it out on poor, unassuming girls on the street.

Men like you are the reason that women (especially in New York City) are constantly fearful, mistrustful, and wary of the other sex. These days, gentlemen are few and far, and it's gotten to the point where when I go out to a bar or a party, I've learned not to look for relationships, because most of the time the guy turns out to be a creep.

And you didn't really expect me to respond, do you? If I had responded positively, you probably would've either ignored me and make me seem like a fool, or else you would've become embarassed like the coward you are and pretend not to see me. And if I had snapped back at you or given you the finger, you probably would've just called me a bitch or a cunt.

We are not dogs. We do not respond to whistles, howling, fondling, or screaming. We are human beings. We are not your playthings, and we are not put on this earth for your amusement. What we want in a relationship is equality, and not to feel like we're your prize. We want to feel loved, but also give love in return. We don't want to be labeled. So if you think I'm beautiful, and you want to pursue something, ask me a question, what are my interests, what are my thoughts. Make eye contact with me. Look at me, and not my ass. If you're simply speaking out of your ass, then do yourself a favor and think before you speak. Unless you're a child who doesn't know better or you have some sort of mental disability where you lack obvious social skills, there is no excuse for behaving like a pig. I think I can speak for all females when I say if your porkish male ego is really that neglected, you should do yourself a favor and watch a couple of chick flicks and maybe perhaps have a hooker wearing heels stomp on your dick a few times so you get those unrealistic ideas of how to talk to women out of your head.

I guess what I'm really trying to say is, get a life and go fuck yourself.


P.S On a side note, this particular blog entry is obviously targeted towards heterosexual couples. I would include lesbian couples as well, but frankly, I've never met a girl who screams at other girls on the street if she thinks that she's hot.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009


Hello, my name is Jan (insert common jewish last name here) and I live in a country where more people care about who is American Idol than who is president.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Susan Boyle

I am so sick and disgusted by all of the hype over Susan Boyle. Don't get me wrong. From that 5 minute audition I saw of her, I think she's funny and she has a lovely voice. She's talented, but definitely not the most amazing thing since single packets of cheese slices. If it Susan Boyle was 'pretty' by American standards, she would not have as much of a following. The reason for the explosion over her is because everyone was so surprised that someone that didn't look like a movie star could actually be talented. And Simon Cowell and all of the other ignorant asshole judges, along with the audience, wrote her off as soon as she came onstage because of her appearance and her age. I find it extremely offensive that everyone had such a cathartic reaction once she opened her mouth and started to sing. The audience and judges were on their feet and screaming/clapping/crying within minutes. They might as well have been screaming, "OH MY GOD! AN UGLY PERSON CAN SING! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!" And the tears from the judges? Give me a fucking break. Let's ignore the fact that I have a conspiracy theory about that whole audition and think it was probably staged (I mean come on, it is reality TV. It's all about 35% real). But for what reason should America be moved to tears? Because someone with average looks proved that they have talent? What does that say about us as people?

Now she's an overnight sensation. She'll probably end up with a record deal. Which is wonderful for her, but it's terribly sad and pathetic how it all came to be. I think that Susan Boyle gets the last laugh. Because her sudden fame is based on the shallowness of a nation.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Crazy paranoid/schizo shopping rant

When it comes to shopping at my local grocery store, I am developing shopper's anxiety/paranoid/discomfort. Why? Because I am convinced that the cashiers/baggers are judging me.

But that's crazy, Jan, you might exclaim!

Think about it. How many times is a hungry, lazy college student with either too much or too little time on their hands going to go food shopping? The answer is just enough that the people who work there recognize you. Sometimes when I get home from school or work late I like to do some late-night grocery shopping for guilty pleasures such as fruit roll ups or gherkins, WHAT!? Are you going to look at my selections on the conveyor belt and give me that weird look?

What about the middle-aged guy a few months ago that bought a six pack and a bag of oreos? Do you think he was preparing for a big night out? I don't think so.

Or the child star I stood behind that was buying steak, milk, and coke in a little red wagon.

Or the girl that only buys really, really healthy vegetables sans preservatives (in which case she really shouldn't be shopping at this la dee dah store).

You can assume a lot about someone by looking at their food selections. If I didn't know me, I'd say I had some problems. Which I do. I just want to eat shit in peace! So what if all I'm buying day to day is fruit roll ups, apple sauce, oatmeal, carrots, hummus, granola bars, and water? You want to make something of it? I'm a picky eater with problems and I need sustenance.

Maybe I should start using Fresh Direct. I hear their stuff is fresh and direct.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Some thought vomit

I've been thinking a lot about things that we take for granted. The other night I went to a gala benefit for Our Time, a program that offers a save haven for kids 8-18 who stutter. The kids got to perform songs and spoken-word with various noted TV/Broadway performers. All of them were so happy to be onstage and so high-spirited. When they sang, they were confident and happy. And when they spoke, they struggled to get the words out, and some kids had worse stutters than others but they were still happy. They weren't frustrated or embarassed about their disabilities, and they were surrounded by hundreds of supportive people. One girl who was 18 gave an incredibly moving speech about how she used to contemplate suicide because she was never able to tell people what was on her mind, but now she is proud of her disability and was fulfilling her dream to speak in front of an audience that was actually listening to her. She proclaimed, "You have saved me" to us, and then declared that she was damned proud of her stutter. Her speech was incredibly moving and I'm pretty sure most people in the audience were crying. The speech would probably take someone who didn't have a speech problem about fifteen minutes, but it took her twice that time (maybe even more) because of the severity of her stutter. I've never really been around people who stutter, and not only did these young kids inspire me with their hopefulness and their love, but they really made me feel grateful that I can speak my mind and say exactly what I'm feeling. A lot of these kids said that when they were at school they didn't speak because they were afraid they would get teased. I can't imagine the frustration of knowing exactly you want to say and having the words on the tip of your tongue but literally not being able to say it. I've always stuck to writing because I'm not really comfortable with public speaking and I have a hard time organizing my thoughts and translating them into words. It's a personal flaw that I've always wished to alleviate, and now especially after seeing these little kids that spoke so proudly and confidently despite being tongue-tied and having an extremely hard time getting the words out. No one should ever have to live in silence.

I've also been thinking of...spirits. Strange, yes, I've never really put much thought into the after-life, but something that happened the other night got me thinking. A music box in my room went off without my having touched it in ages, and when I told my friend Jolie who is really invested in that kind of stuff, she told me that I probably had a pleasant visitor in my room. Which really freaked me out, but it got me thinking about who else might be occasionally visiting me. I'm always thinking about the twin sister I had who was stillborn and wonder often if she is ever with me in spirit. I've never 'felt' the presence of another being, but I asked Jolie and she told me that my sister definitely watched over me, kind of like a guardian angel. Again, I don't necessarily believe in that kind of thing, but I'd like to believe that that's true. I'm sad we never got to meet...I reckon that we could've been great pals :).

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Spoiled brats and other fools

I saw the most infuriating television show while sleeping over at Todd's house last night and it reminded me why I no longer own or watch TV. The show was on MTV (of course) and it was called 'Teen Cribs' and it was kind of like a prequel to 'My Super Sweet 16'; basically a bunch of spoiled brats show off their hugeass mansion and the ridiculously excessive bedrooms and whatnot they had. I have never wanted to smack the TV more than when watching this shit. Why is watching other people brag about being rich for half an hour considered entertainment? I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out.

The absolute worst was when this one hick girl went outside to show off her many acres, and she went over to a pigpen and introduced her pet pig. She said, "This is Bacon, and one day he will become our breakfast". Who names the animal that they're going to eventually slaughter and eat? My recently more vegeterian attitudes aside-that's just sick. 

And another guy was showing off his 'Game Room' and showed his first kill, which was a deer head that was mounted on the wall. He dressed it up like Bob Marley. This is my generation. I am ashamed.

Speaking of ashamed, if you've picked up a newspaper or watched the news recently (I haven't in the past 2 days, I had to learn about this on facebook), you'll see that my school is being featured because a bunch of students thought that taking over a building and waving a bunch of anarchist signs around would get Bob Kerrey fired. And like idiots, they called the police and the police showed up...and tear-gased them and beat them. Which admittedly, was uncalled for...but it's so embarassing to be associated with these buffoons. Just look up 'New School Occupation' on youtube and you'll see what fun a liberal arts school can be!

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Too young to take over, too old to ignore...

I turned 20 a few weeks ago. It took a trip to the dentist for me to really feel old. I've been going to the same dentist since I was 6, and this time they put me in a separate room so I would be away from all of the other little kids getting their teeth cleaned and drilled. Instead of asking the usual 'How are you, Jan? How old are you now? Do you like school?' the dentist and her assistant bitched about their previous patient and how much they hated the latex gloves. One of the only things they did say to me was, "You know who Bush is, right? I used to love them and my last patient didn't know who they were and it made me feel so old". Yeah, join the club.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

The plot against America(n Apparel)

I have a problem. I think I have contracted a virus. And it goes by the name of American Apparel.

Before I go any further, before I am accused of being hypocrite, I will admit, I own about 5 or 6 items from this store. I'm even wearing a dress from there in my profile picture (it made my ass look like Siam, by the way). But I convinced myself that despite the fact that it was hugely unflattering, it was an essential asset to my wardrobe and life. Because it is an addiction. But why? Their clothes are overpriced, ugly, and designed to make a girl with an average body type (like myself) feel like they are a fat cow.

First of all, let's talk about the sizes. The tops and dresses come in sizes that go from XXSmall to XXLarge. In any other clothing store, I'm a small. In American Apparel, I am a fatass. The clothes are skintight and seem to be designed with every intention of highlighting every little hidden fold of fat or pock of cottage cheese ass that you might be trying to hide. Let's take this stupid little dress, for example:

I've seen this ridiculous cotton spandex number on girls of all body types. IT NEVER LOOKS GOOD. I don't know who designed this, but it doesn't 'flatter your curves' makes you look like a tube of toothpaste. And they're so tight that it's nearly impossible to walk in. I've never gotten a complex from a dress before. Maybe I'm just bitter because I will never look good in it. I've tried it several times, each time thinking 'Maybe this time it won't make my hips look childbearing and make my ass look like it's meant for skiing on'. But it just wasn't meant to be. And let's not even talk about the ugly color schemes. Yellow and white? Turqoise and blue? They don't even go together. So why is it that all of downtown New York hipster kids wear it all the time? Is it really that chic to wear skintight ice skating outfits and shiny orange spandex pants? Topped off with a shiny gold headband that makes you look like a dumbass hippie reject? A few weeks ago I saw a hipster kid begging for money in the subway, and he was clothed from head to toe in American Apparel. I wanted to grab him by his dumbass suspenders and tell him that if he sold his clothes he'd probably have enough money for meals for a week.

And what in god's name is up with the sizes? I spoke to one of the girls working there to ask why a size EXTRA small was translating to an extra LARGE, and she replied "I guess American body types are different here than they are in London". What kind of excuse is that? Not to mention when I bought an item of clothing (because let's be honest, ladies, no matter how much you might despise clothes, retail therapy is a sickness. And it makes you feel better) I was charged $12 extra. When I went back to ask for my money back, the same girl replied, "Um, I don't know I guess the cost is different in Britan and America hasn't caught up yet". Okay, so because Americans are fat cows we are also stupid enough to get cheated out of our money.

So why is it that I keep coming back to this store to try on the same dress, hoping that this time it will fit? Even though every time I've tried it on all it has done is make me feel bad about myself? Is it because I see so many people wearing it and unconsiously think, "Well, even though it looks awful, everyone else is wearing it, so I have to too". I really don't know. It can't be the advertising, because even the manequins in the store look like they're dying for air. Does anyone know? Is it really that when it comes down to it, I am that shallow? Because if that's the case, I'm not satisfied. And one day I will overcome my need to try on ugly, unflattering clothes that serve to make me feel large and insignificant!

But first, I need to buy this dress because it looks incredibly flattering and I NEED IT!

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Why I've traded men for canines.

I got back home from my friend Michey's house at around 3AM. I haven't been home for about 2 months, and I have the week off for springbreak.

I let myself inside and turned off the alarm. Everyone else was asleep but him. I heard his footsteps before I spotted him at the top of the steps. He was staring at me with wide eyes and his jaw dropped, as if he couldn't believe that it was really me. I called for him to come downstairs and greet me and he came down halfway before stopping again. The excitement of my presence seemed to be literally making him dizzy. So I started up the stairs and we met halfway. I was greeted with grunts of delight, wet kisses, and a wagging tail. I hugged him as hard as I could without injuring him and we trotted into the kitchen together to get a midnight snack and catch up on things. I asked him how he's been and told him what I've been up to while sharing a bowl of popcorn with him. After I brought my bags upstairs I changed into my pajamas and the two of us got into bed and spooned for the rest of the night. I hugged him tightly against me and buried my nose against the back of his head, taking in his scent of musky outdoors and rain combined with smoke and oddly enough, air freshener. I couldn't help but think, this is what a loving relationship is all about.

Obviously, I'm talking about my dog; a Cairn Terrier named Michaelangelo (Mickey for short). That kind of excited, 'HOLY FUCK I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT'S REALLY YOU' is the kind of greeting that I have never recieved from another human being. Not to say that my family and friends don't love me, but it's one thing to vocalize missing someone and giving hugs, but it's quite another to give an animated performance and essentially do a ritualized dance with excitement. This is one of the reasons why I've realized that no one will ever love you like your dog.

I don't say this to be harsh, or depressing. I'm simply being realistic. Think about it. Who else will cuddle with you in the middle of the day (or night, if you're an insomniac like me) no matter how horrible you look from lack of a shower or make-up, or how bad you smell. Who else will love you completely unconditionally no matter what? Who will follow you around from room to room (even the bathroom) even when you're PMSing and feel horrible? Who will love you no matter what, despite all of your imperfections?

When I look into my dog's eyes, I don't see judgement or scrutiny. He doesn't think I should change. He loves me just the way I am. Guys will break your heart. They will make you doubt yourself, and later maybe they'll leave. They'll make you feel bad about yourself and then ask for your forgiveness. They'll say that they don't mind your farting in bed, or the fact that sometimes you like to listen to the A*Teens, but you know that deep down, they're a little freaked out. They'll demand to know why you've been out so long, and silently suspect you of dishonesty. They'l accidentally insult your mother to her face. And they'll burn your toast.

But a dog will never look down upon you, or judge you for the things you like, and what your ambitions are. They'll will always forgive you for your faults, like being away from home and not visiting him for over 2 months. They'll make you feel beautiful and loved like no one else can. They will remain loyal to you no matter what. A dog is completely incapable of ill will towards another being. They want only to love and be loved in return. And my dog can sense when I'm in a bad mood. If I'm unhappy, he is clearly unsettled. His ears will go down and he'll sulk in the corner, mirroring my actions. We're totally in sync to each other's moods. We know how to read one another.

And for the record, when my mom calls me at school to tell me that my dog has peed on the corner of my bed again, it actually warms my heart. I know that in his own way, it means that he loves me and misses me, and he'll be damned if anyone else is going to come into my room and try to claim ownership of my heart.

I haven't found the 'one' perfect guy. And maybe I never will. And who knows if that's necessarily a bad thing? Guys come with baggage. Relationships end, and they end badly. The bond between human and animal is unbreakable. So while I haven't found the man of my dreams, I have my dog, and that's enough for me. Hell, if I could marry my dog, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Call it crazy; call it deeply disturbing. I call it unrequited love :).