an ode to opposites

99% percent of my friends would agree that my most prevailing personality trait is my unmatched laziness, and the opposing 1% would only disagree because i somehow managed to graduate college in time without having to do the 5th year victory lap (still not sure how i pulled that off). if i don't leave my house between the time i wake up to the time i go to sleep about ten hours later, it's been a good day. nay, a GREAT day. give me a tv, way too much delivery food, and a forty and you've just described my version of the heavenly kingdom. granted going through a good-for-nothing-couch-bum phase is pretty much required for graduation, but if laziness had been a major i would've graduated three semesters early.

to maximize laziness enjoyment, rewatch a classic movie you've already seen at least 50+ times

with the exception of frequently late papers, laziness in college was never that detrimental to my life. in hindsight, i can pretty much chalk that up to my best friend and roommate, taco, my energy opposite. she's the rittalin to my valium, the coke to my pot, the meth to my heroin, the adrenaline needle to my straight up OD. basically if it weren't for her i would still be asleep on the couch, and if it weren't for me she'd be chain smoking through her one remaining tooth in a basement yammering on and on about how she's the reincarnation of god. (remember, in this analogy taco is meth).

being a double almost triple major with two research assistant jobs, president of the religion club, treasurer of the anthropology club, member of the honor college, and at least five awards for teacher's pet, taco was the ying to my underachieving academic yang. in addition to guilt tripping me into not failing out of school, taco was responsible for my pretty killer social life via not indulging in my let's-just-stay-home-and-play-drunk-uno suggestions. i'm not sure exactly why, but getting me to go out most nights is eerily similiar to getting a toddler to bathe before bedtime. i just don't want to do it, even though i'm fully aware of how fun it can be with the right toys and an ample supply of bubble bath (in this scenario, the toys are male homo sapiens and the bubble bath is malt liquor, vodka from a plastic flask if i'm feeling chic). all i want is to keep watching the spongebob marathon undisturbed, but nay, mama taco is all too aware the importance of hygiene/socialization and knows that once i'm in the bath the real battle is getting me out. and bless her hyper little heart because otherwise i'd be filthy with no friends.

unfortunately, my ying jet set off to Thailand for a year prety much right out of the graduated starting gates, leaving me to yang around in a confused stupor ever since. but hark! doest my calendar deceive me? nay! my taco is indeed expected to make her stateside return in mere days, hopefully bringing my year of fog to a close as she kicks my ass via excitement back to life. after all I haven't taken a bath in MONTHS and this spongebob marathon is starting to repeat episodes.

knock knock. who's there? a lot of crazy shit

i've been noticing something lately: the world has totally lost its fucking shit. seriously.  liiiiiike what is happening? when watching the news is more disturbing than the real housewives of new york city reunion, i start to get concerned.

these bitchz b TRIPPIN' over the debt ceiling debacle

the best aka worst part of the world suddenly coming off it's meds is the average person's complete inability to do anything but watch the schizo's battle it out for who gets to kill us all first. since i have nothing else to do, i've just been chillen on the sidelines watching the massive food fight that is the world, all cliques included, more or less burn down into a pile of leftover ashes. 2012? at this rate, i'm thinking more october 2011. fuck you mayans, wrong again.

it's strange how everything seems to be unravelling at the seams, and yet we, especially americans, are sitting and watching like it's merely a trailer for the blockbuster sequel to Independence Day (with Tony Award nominee, Bill Pullman, returning as President Whitmore).  it's strange how we don't even try. strange, but completely understandable. it's extremely difficult to feel passion for something, for example a political issue, only to be shut out and fucked over by the persons whose job description specifically includes taking you seriously, for example 99.9% of our publicly elected officials. this latest debt ceiling crisis is only the cherry on top of the sinking ship sundae that is the american government and economy as we know it. smell ya later, first world, it's been real. 

in conclusion, since congress seems to think this is all an amazingly awful and catty drama-driven reality show, i propose that we start to play it the same way by calling in to a toll-free phone line to vote off a shitty congressman every week. and the best part is we just keep going until all of them are kicked out of D.C. and preferably the country 'cause then that way none of them are the winner, we are! the prize is a cover of The Wallstreet Journal and a $100,000 contract with the National Treasury. and Heidi Klum is the host, just to really drive the point home. 

"in the world of governments, one day you are in and the next you are out. i'm sorry i'm not sorry, john boehner, but you are out. auf wiedersehen"