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Enough Speaking.

I guess I’m in a little bit of a ranty mood today. Am I the only one that is sick and tired of hearing the antics of Britney Spears and her clan of idiots? I’ve never found her to be exceptionally talented and back when her first song came out I was very hesitant to play it on the radio. I believe my comment was “Wow, technology can do wondrous things!”

I realise1 that a good chunk of the American sheep have become obsessed with all things Hollywood. I know that it’s apparently very important to know which celebrity showed her cooley as she staggered out of the limo last night. Personally I believe that Paris Hilton is the anti-Christ that the wingnuts are always shrieking about.

Here’s my take on this Britney thing. Who cares if she shaved her head months ago. Did the country go whacko years ago when Tyne Daly did the same thing? Of course not. Is Britney a responsible mother? Probably not. Neither is a good chunk of mothers out there today but we don’t see everyone losing2 their mind over it. There’s always going to be good mothers and there’s always going to be bad mothers. It’s just the way it is. Crimminy.

The newest five alarm fire is that she’s speaking in a British accent. Big whoopin’ doopin’ doo. Has anyone thought that she might have wanted to reboot her life or even just a change of pace? I know that if I grew up with that southern accent that she’s had all her life I’d be out making a change too. Truth be known if I could pull of a believable Irish accent I’d do it full-time. “The British accent shows that she has a personality disorder.” Give me a fscking break. Maybe she was just sick of sounding like a hick.

I realise1 that the media wants us to pretend that there’s no war and all is rosy in the United States. Celebrity deconstruction sells ad time much better than world annihilation. But enough already with the Britney talk. Let her be.

Bollocks!

1 Since I can’t speak with a convincing Irish accent, I type with one.

2 As long as I’m ranting, for the love of god please note that ‘lose’ is spelled with one ‘o’. “I’m losing weight so my jeans will be loose.” Loose as in “loose change” = two ‘o’s. Lose as in “lose the sidekick” = one ‘o’. Thank you.

Moby gets credit for inspiring me to superscript my numbered notes.

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Good Morning, Captain.

Before starting this blog entry I briefly wondered how many times I can write about the fact that I’m not a morning person and then I decided that I don’t really give a shit, it’s my blog and I can write about whatever I damn well please.

This should be an indication of my mood this morning.

There is nothing responsible for putting me in a less-than-sunny mood this morning other than the fact that it’s not even 7 a.m. and here I am up and about. This idea of offering only one section of a required course at 8 a.m. is ridiculous. I wonder what the folks that work during the day and go to night school are suppose to do about getting this class onto their schedule.

I wrote a letter to the president of the college asking him to have someone please fix the clocks. None of the clocks in the creatively named “Academic Building” work properly. The time displayed in the hallways is nothing close to what we consider real time in these parts, but I do know what time it is in Guam, Halifax and Moscow in case you’re wondering. None of the classrooms have clocks because it depresses the students. I’ve heard that theory from a couple of folks but I believe it’s because the school is cheap and they didn’t want to go to the expense. I get depressed when the instructor starts on time and people come wandering in for the next ten minutes because they don’t know what time it is.

Earl was out of town last night and that has me somewhat cranky as well. As I burrow under the covers I think about the fact that It’s cold in our house because our energy costs have gone through the roof again. I think I’m ready for winter to be over. I’m ready for warmer weather and wearing as little clothes as socially acceptable. I hate bundling up. I wish I could wear shorts all year ’round.

I am so tired of this presidential election I could scream. People are rampantly hating Hillary and few know why they hate her, they just know they have to hate her so they do. I guess I can’t really complain though because I have no basis for my complete distrust for Obama but there’s something that just doesn’t add up right for me when I listen to his speeches and his other plans for a better tomorrow. And don’t even get me started on the other side of the fence, all I see are cranky old men doing cranky old things that will at the very least undoubtedly cost Earl and I more money to prove that we are still human beings because after all, if it ain’t fear sanctioned love, it’s not love. If the truth were to be known, none of the presidential candidates really do anything for me and this is all going to boil down to the less sucky choice.

I know no one takes me seriously when I declare that I want to move to Ireland but it still holds true. It’s my own fault for voicing my dreams out loud for most of my life. If you dream it and don’t follow through with it, people think you have no sense of direction.

Truth be known, my direction is usually different than everyone else’s. And that doesn’t bother me in the least. They tell me look at the big picture. They don’t get that I’m looking at a completely different painting.