In Which I Break My Own Rules!

I usually refuse to grab items from other blogs without having something original to say about the content, but, this link I just spotted at feministing really must be passed on.
Some apparently really cool kids wrote some really good speeches for President Bush (that may or may not contain the phrase "doo-doo head"), and got them recited by an impersonator.

This next item was featured on bookslut, but I was directed to it from someone else, so it's not (so blatantly) stealing. The judge who acquitted the author of The Da Vinci Code of plagarism charges worked his own secret code into his ruling. If you're not registered for The New York Times website, you can read the full text as posted by some nice kid on livejournal.

Odd! Inspiring! Right?

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I Lied, Again.

Monday-Wednesday-Friday set? That was a bit of a lie. I didn't realize I'd be visiting a college all day on Friday, and working at church camp all weekend. I've been so busy, just be thankful I can still form coherent sentences.

I do have treats for you, my pretties. If college fails to provide inspiration to my mind or spirit, it will at least surely inspire my blogging material.



I caught this mess during the three-hour ride. You can just see the corner of the giant tipi to the left. We passed at least three Native American (specifically Mohawk, I think) themed souveneir stores, but this was the most outrageous. I had to wonder if there was actually a solid Mohawk population around, if they were involved with these shops, or if other people were just exploiting the fact that, you know, "Native Americans used to live sort of nearby, maybe I can sell some shoes, blankets and cheap plastic shit".

Oh, and by the way, guess what I found during spring cleaning?



Creepy.

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An Item That Falls Directly Between "Freaking Bizarre" and "Inspiring".

As you may or probably do not know, I'm a playwright. An award-winning playwright, at that. (Try to guess which one I am! Hint: I have a vagina.) I've got a fucking plaque and everything. I know I'm not a genius at it or anything- I'm definitely not one of those drama kids who say things like, "You know, my professor is simply fascinated with O'Neill, but I don't understand how she can call herself a drama lover when she says she's never cared for Beckett." I'm actually glad I haven't read a lot of classics, because I can write without worrying that I'm taking too much inspiration from other work (read: ripping off better writers). My first play was about lobsters, my second was about mimes, and currently I'm writing a carthatic piece about the college process. I'd just gotten to thinking I'm good at it this sort of thing, when I stumbled upon a piece that makes me ashamed of my lack of creativity. It's not Beckett, it's not O'Neill, it's not even Wilde- whose fandom I would belong to, if more 19th century writers had fandoms- it's this.


A Very Merry Unauthorized Children's Scientology Pagaent.

I haven't seen it, I haven't (yet) heard the soundtrack, I haven't read the articles in New York Times or The Village Voice. By the way, why am I only hearing about this now? It's apparently been around for years, and my so-called "friends" never thought mention it to me?
No, I have only gazed upon the website- which I initially thought to be a really cool hoax. When I realized it was legit, just reading the title of the play caused me to utter that phrade that tears at every artist's heart: "Why didn't I think of that?"



In costumes slightly resembling The Polyphonic Spree's robes (creating some kind of meeting of the bizarrely brilliant), children- God bless them, children play L. Ron Hubbard, Tom Cruise, John Travolta, and, of course, the great Xenu (pictured above, in more Conehead-esque garb). They sing songs such as "Hey! It's a Happy Day!" and "Mister Auditor". Who doesn't love a musical? Well, probably not actual Scientologists.

An unwanted but obligatory rant about scientology itself: I try to be open-minded about Scientology. It would probably be much easier if they ever tried telling anyone what they actually do. Seriously, scientologists. First of all, thank you for visiting my blog. Tell your friends. Secondly, I know being all secret and exclusive is your "thing", but you're hurting the cause. Your founder, the guy who wrote Battlefield Earth, simply looks shady. I don't know if The Simpsons modeled the Leader in their cult epsiode after L. Ron or if it was just a happy coincidence because he looks like a cult leader. I'm afraid famous people keep defending scientology because they can afford it. I know Christians pass around a collection plate, but there's not a thousand-dollar tab on baptism and confessional. We will stop treating you like a cult when you stop acting so damn culty. When one of your famous members jokes about eating his baby's placenta and people automatically believe it- it's time for a change.
Really, Scientologists, this pagaent is probably the most positive cultural reference you're going to get. Start letting your kids put it on around Christmas or L. Ron Hubbard Day or what have you. Everyone likes kids. They're adorable.

By the way, the one image that qualified this play for Bizarre Week:



Nothing more fantastically creepy than emotionless twins in rainbow socks and a giant brain costume.

I love it.

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Freaking Bizzare Dead Thing. Warning: Pictures.

Personal life issues are slowly settling down, so hopefully I'll be back to semi-regular updates. That is, until summer hits, at which point I'll be away five days a week to work with brats lovely children at that God camp I've mentioned. I am at this point praying that Project Runway doesn't launch a new season in the middle of the summer, as I have heard they're rushing to start season three. Oh well, at least I hope I'll have interesting stories on the weekend. As for now....

It's been occuring to me that, while definitely a bit fruity, my blog is not as totally bizarre as it could be. Look at my subtitle- shouldn't I be blogging about robots or leprachauns or robot leprachauns or something particularly out of the ordinary?
It turns out it's pretty hard to find inspiring topics to write about several times a week. But, I think I've gathered up enough material for at least a Monday-Wednesday-Friday set, and so I announce this week to be
FREAKIN' BIZZARE WEEK.

Let's start with what I did on Easter. While my hippie, vegetarian, antique-collecting aunt and uncle's giant, museum-like house where horses occasionally run through the back yard might be bizarre to some people, that's just one piece of the puzzle that is my upbringing. What really freaked me out this weekend was stumbled upon at a nearby beach.
I've seen horseshoe crabs, regular crabs and shellfish in general washed ashore plenty of times. I live in the ocean state. These things happen. However, Sunday afternoon, my uncle took my brother and I to a lesser-known local beach, where we witnessed what we initially guessed was a dead seal.

Now, maybe I should, but I do not know how to make cuts, jumps, or in any case, post a picture without you seeing it right away. Do I provide a wimpy link? Of course not, friends, I improvise. Here is a preview of a picture that I took of the thing, the gross bits tastefully blocked out by something slightly nicer to look at.



On closer inspection, we decided it was a shark. The problem being, we live in Rhode Island. You know how many sharks are around Rhode Island? Neither do I. I don't know because nobody cares, because there are so few sharks around Rhode Island that it isn't worth caring about unless you're a shark enthusiast, a title which I vehemently deny.
It's also only mid-April. Do you know how many sharks are around in mid-April, in Rhode Island? The answer, by all human logic, should be "none, silly!"
It was also pretty far up the beach. I would like to know the mathmetic probability of a shark washing ashore and dying, in mid-April, in Rhode Island. Someone get back to me on that.

Our third guess was that it was a porpoise of some kind, of course, that entails all of the problems with the idea that it's a shark. I described it to the boy, and he suggested that it could be a barracuda, but I find the wreckage hardly barracuda-esque.

WARNING: I am going to post the pictures now.

Seriously.

They're a little bit gross.

Stop scrolling if you're the squeamish type.

Exposed ribcage and everything, don't you know.

It's gross.

For real.

Here come the pictures.

Of the decaying animal carcass.

...

Ta-da.







Freaking bizzare, eh?

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A Few Items of Interest Pour Toi.

First of all, if you don't read Queerty (and why the hell not?), and you know anyone in Massachusetts, I must direct you to www.knowthyneighbor.org. I've already found one very close friend with his name on the petition to ban gay marriage and dropped him/her a note about it. Maybe he has leanings I'm unaware of, or maybe he's a victim of fraud. Why take the chance?


Also, I've got further support for the Santino as Gay Vampire Jesus theory thanks to pictures from the GLAAD awards. Santino is on page two. Though he appears more preist-esque than Jesus-like, come on. Look at him. Tell me this outfit and pose don't scream "queer religious undead". Is he trying to supply me with material?
(I did have a picture displayed here, but it was too damn huge and water-marked for my liking. Aesthetics, thank you!)


Last, and probably least, am I the only one who's been getting really good spam lately? You know, that kind of ranting, nonsensical stuff with a link slipped in the middle so they don't get picked up by filters? My inbox has been stuffed with it this week. Most are too long and mind-numbing to post, but I got one a few hours ago that had no ad, and was all of one sentence. I'm not sure what they're trying to acheive with this one. The spam in question, in its entirety:

"After the stuffy city, Judas was struck by the stupefying smell of the

dog's head."
I know these things are probably blogged about all the time, but when someone gives you an incomplete thought like this, everyone should share the magic.

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In Which I Have Immature But Legitimate Worries About The Cool Kids Not Liking Me

Links to Witch Doctor totally fixed. Why doesn't anyone point these things out?
The five of you are grounded.

Sorry, I've been in a bad mood the past few days- I was rejected from my top choice college (Ithaca, if you hadn't guessed) and facing a fast decision between my back-ups. It's pretty much down to Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts and SUNY Purchase. My aunt, who's very invested in my education, sent me to their respective Wikipedia pages of all places. Purchase had the most detailed page, and it sounds like an artistic culturally-subversive haven. However, it's not very aeshthetically pleasing. I wonder if my aunt was trying to steer me in a particular direction when she sent me this link....

"this school absolutely blows donkey testicles. do not go here is the only advice i can give you. it is the gay capital of the world, if you are straight it is very difficult to get laid."
And that's from an allegedly bright female. Of course naming something "the gay capital of the world" only draws me closer to it. However, I'm terribley afraid they're overjudging my abilities. The only accept thirty-one percent of applicants (much, much less than the other schools I applied to), and for the love of Parker Posey, look at their alumni! Moby? Wesley Snipes? One of the Petes from Pete and Pete? I'm pretty sure I am not hip enough to be going to this school. Just the fact that I used the word "hip" proved my point.

I'm away this weekend, and I'll be stressed out until this college problem is resolved- I fear the five of you might have to entertain yourselves for a little while.

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There Were Also An Inordinate Amount of "C.C. IS SO F-ING HOTTT" Threads, Who Knew?

I missed this week's Surreal Life- how awful, right? I was in New Hampshire all weekend. Do you suppose I should start recapping it? What would I say? Episode four- everyone still frustrated with everyone else. Signs point to future breakdowns and weird hook-ups.
Anyway, I watched some clips online, and then I decided to venture in to a place most people with, well, better-shit-to-do fear to tread. I've been tragically short of shit to do lately, and the VH1 message boards are not the bottom of the bottle. The bottom of the bottle is, in fact, watching an entire 5-hour block of VH1 countdowns cuddled up to several pints of ice cream.
I expected to see some moderate Alexis-bashing, and my expectations were fulfilled. But, I was pleased that for every "he is a dude, not a chick!" threads, there was about thirty "STFU, and don't call her he!", and several "whatever, man, she's pretty hot" replies. Ah, and this little gem made me miss my old days as a message board junkie:



By the way, "Alexis Saved My Child" is from the mother of an eight year old boy who wears his sister's clothes and asks his mother why God gave him a boy body and a girl brain. She finally "got it" when she watched Alexis on the Surreal Life. Of course, Daddybull The Troll replies to the effect of "either you made that up, or that kids needs an ass-kicking". If the story is authentic, I suggest to the mother the movie Ma Vie En Rose- it imagine it will pull very familiar heartstrings.

...is that even an expression?

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In Which a Well-Known PR Fan Has a Webcomic, Creating an Intersection of Sorts

Remember my internet friend Oolong, who did the lovely caricatures of the Project Runway designers?

Seeing as I mentioned my zest for webcomics in my last entry, I thought I'd plug his new webcomic, Witch Doctor. It's a bit more, hmm, comprehensive than his previous, titled Faggot House. It's still in the exposition stage, but the art is nice and the characters seem likeable, so I'll be following it for a while.

A sneak peak? Sure, why not? Hopefully he won't eat my face or anything for not mentioning this to him.



Give it a peek, support the guy- webcomics are definitely harder to keep going than lousy blogs like this.

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