On my way home from Idaho at Christmas, I sat next to a nice-looking couple. They might have been around my mom & dad's age, maybe a little younger. I was reading Perfume, and the back cover looked a lot like the back of the book she was reading. She asked me what I was reading; I told her, and she told me what she was reading. Twilight.
This woman (a very nice and enthusiastic woman, indeed) went on and ON about Twilight for oh, probably 20 minutes. I politely listened, and by the end of our conversation, I was convinced I should go out and buy this book immediately. No waiting for my turn on paperbackswap.com!!
She was wrong. Oh, so very, VERY wrong.
I have never, ever read a more trite, boring, uneventful pile of garbage in my entire life, AND I AM AN ENGLISH MAJOR. I have been forced to read all sorts of garbage, and this tops my list.
I know what you are going to say. "But Micaela, these books are meant for young teen and pre-teen girls." Baloney, I say! When I was that old, I was reading Jane Eyre! Don't give me that crap that girls want this kind of romance. What happened to good old fashioned romance? Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester, anyone? I would take those two over this Edward fella any day. (Although, I must admit, Edward WAS my favorite character.)
But honestly. Bella? Never has there been a more pathetic, unlovable, ignorant, gullible heroine in the history of fiction. She is so moronic. I just would not be able to give this book to a young girl and hope that she dreams of being Alice Cullen rather than Bella, because Bella is just so easy to BE. She doesn't DO anything except whatever her boyfriend tells her to do. Except when she might get killed. Then she decides to throw caution to the wind, and damn the consequences. Ugh.
Why would we ever want our young girls to read this? To aspire to be like this? Oh, don't get me wrong. Virginity is a great thing. Abstinence is a wonderful moral to tout. But she doesn't keep her virginity because she wants to. She wants to climb on that sexy-ass vampire faster than you can say "lame vampire book." She can't have sex with him because of ... wait for it .. his rock hard vampire dick.
Seriously.
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Monday, January 19, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Yes, Yes I Know. (Actually, I Don't)
I got on my facebook page today (LOVE IT!) and lovely Amanda had posted the following:
Amanda June Costello wrote at 9:51pm
Let me recreate a moment from Amanda and Curtis's house. Amanda is brushing her teeth getting ready for bed when she comes into the bedroom to find Curtis laughing- hard. Amanda asks, "Babe, what's so funny?" Curtis turns slightly to reveal his iPhone and Amanda notices that he is reading a blog she herself had been pursuing only moments before. "Is that Ky's blog?" Amanda asks. Curtis replies, "Why have I not read this before? She is so funny!" Amanda laughs and agrees with him as she gets into bed. Curtis, still standing, is laughing harder now, and says "Okay, one more and then I will go to bed." Fast forward a few minutes. Curtis is now in bed and is laughing quietly. Amanda asks, already knowing the answer, " What's so funny?" Curtis replies "Her... Sometimes she just says and writes things that are pee your pants funny." End scene. Lights out. Good night. We think you rock.
Well, I think you two rock. Let me tell you, sometimes I write on this blog, and I think, "I'm am honestly writing for myself." And well, that's OK! But honestly, I don't how funny it really is until someone tells me, which I LOOOOOOVE! (Imagine me saying that in a really awesome Oprah voice.) But God, this little post on facebook made me SMILE. Thanks, lovelies.
And the cupcakes are coming along swimingly.
Amanda June Costello wrote at 9:51pm
Let me recreate a moment from Amanda and Curtis's house. Amanda is brushing her teeth getting ready for bed when she comes into the bedroom to find Curtis laughing- hard. Amanda asks, "Babe, what's so funny?" Curtis turns slightly to reveal his iPhone and Amanda notices that he is reading a blog she herself had been pursuing only moments before. "Is that Ky's blog?" Amanda asks. Curtis replies, "Why have I not read this before? She is so funny!" Amanda laughs and agrees with him as she gets into bed. Curtis, still standing, is laughing harder now, and says "Okay, one more and then I will go to bed." Fast forward a few minutes. Curtis is now in bed and is laughing quietly. Amanda asks, already knowing the answer, " What's so funny?" Curtis replies "Her... Sometimes she just says and writes things that are pee your pants funny." End scene. Lights out. Good night. We think you rock.
Well, I think you two rock. Let me tell you, sometimes I write on this blog, and I think, "I'm am honestly writing for myself." And well, that's OK! But honestly, I don't how funny it really is until someone tells me, which I LOOOOOOVE! (Imagine me saying that in a really awesome Oprah voice.) But God, this little post on facebook made me SMILE. Thanks, lovelies.
And the cupcakes are coming along swimingly.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Memoir: A Prologue
Prologue: Wow! That’s a Long Last Name!
It happens every day. Everywhere I go, I get asked the same questions. “What kind of name is that?” “How long did it take for you to learn how to spell your name?” “Is that your maiden name?”
I’m at Safeway, buying some groceries. I have one of those cards that are supposed to save me money, but are just an evil scam to make me buy more of their stuff, just because if you buy that one extra can of soup, they’ll give you a discount. After every transaction, the cashier looks at my receipt before they hand it to me and says, “Thank you, Ms. Whatever Your Name Is.” And every time, the cashier stumbles and spurts out, “Thank you… Miss … Maaa…laa …” And every time I smile and stop him or her from slaughtering my name. “Malaxechebarria,” I say as politely as I can. “Oh. What nationality is that?” With a smile, I reply, “It’s Basque.” “Oh. Ok, thanks. Do you need help out with those?”
I got an interesting question the other day: "I know I am not supposed to ask this, but what nationality is that?" I gave her a startled look, and replied, "It's Basque. Why are you not supposed to ask?" Everyone else does, I think to myself. "Oh, well, with racial profiling and such, we aren't supposed to ask people about their names or their nationality."
I didn't know whether to be offended or to laugh. Everyone since the day I was born people have commented on or made fun of my name in some way or another. And now, after a horrific event that changed our lives forever, now we have to polite and think about if we offend people by asking what their nationality is.
I never was offended by someone asking what nationality my name is. I am more offended that people take a glance at my name and make a large assumption about me as a person because of it. Sometimes those assumptions are good ones: Basques are hard working, polite, loyal to a fault. But there are other bad ones; sheep mainly come to mind.
I guess that is how it is with every nationality. Good stereotypes and bad ones, but they are still stereotypes nonetheless.
It happens every day. Everywhere I go, I get asked the same questions. “What kind of name is that?” “How long did it take for you to learn how to spell your name?” “Is that your maiden name?”
I’m at Safeway, buying some groceries. I have one of those cards that are supposed to save me money, but are just an evil scam to make me buy more of their stuff, just because if you buy that one extra can of soup, they’ll give you a discount. After every transaction, the cashier looks at my receipt before they hand it to me and says, “Thank you, Ms. Whatever Your Name Is.” And every time, the cashier stumbles and spurts out, “Thank you… Miss … Maaa…laa …” And every time I smile and stop him or her from slaughtering my name. “Malaxechebarria,” I say as politely as I can. “Oh. What nationality is that?” With a smile, I reply, “It’s Basque.” “Oh. Ok, thanks. Do you need help out with those?”
I got an interesting question the other day: "I know I am not supposed to ask this, but what nationality is that?" I gave her a startled look, and replied, "It's Basque. Why are you not supposed to ask?" Everyone else does, I think to myself. "Oh, well, with racial profiling and such, we aren't supposed to ask people about their names or their nationality."
I didn't know whether to be offended or to laugh. Everyone since the day I was born people have commented on or made fun of my name in some way or another. And now, after a horrific event that changed our lives forever, now we have to polite and think about if we offend people by asking what their nationality is.
I never was offended by someone asking what nationality my name is. I am more offended that people take a glance at my name and make a large assumption about me as a person because of it. Sometimes those assumptions are good ones: Basques are hard working, polite, loyal to a fault. But there are other bad ones; sheep mainly come to mind.
I guess that is how it is with every nationality. Good stereotypes and bad ones, but they are still stereotypes nonetheless.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Subjecting You To My BAD Poetry
OK, so I was going through my poetry and I found this awful, horrible, poorly written poem. I have to share it.
All you ISU girls: This one is for you! (Oh, God, it is awful, but it brought back a ton of memories.)
Ode to the Parties We Have Visited Upon
Oh! The joy of Swany’s apartment,
Where we learned what the word “beer” meant.
Miller. Coors. Bud. The Beast.
We didn’t care, as long as it had yeast.
Oh! The joy of 5th Floor Garrison,
Where lived the car antennae of Harrison.
We had no care for the RA's;
Too bad the weekend didn’t last for days.
Oh! The wonders of the cabin.
For years we’ve wondered where it has been.
And the snow banks covered with pee,
Outside was the bathroom for me.
Oh! The joy of Center St. and Dudley’s,
Where we learned the importance of ID’s.
Beer flowed away with our money
While we tried to look for a honey.
Oh! Ode to the parties we have visited.
The bathrooms galore we peed in.
We will never forget the memories
Because they are too beautiful, like my homies.
(Oh, man, that is a painful, awful ending, but apparently it is all I had at the time. But doesn't it remind you of all the great times we had?? Harrison Ford's antennae! Who remembers that?)
All you ISU girls: This one is for you! (Oh, God, it is awful, but it brought back a ton of memories.)
Ode to the Parties We Have Visited Upon
Oh! The joy of Swany’s apartment,
Where we learned what the word “beer” meant.
Miller. Coors. Bud. The Beast.
We didn’t care, as long as it had yeast.
Oh! The joy of 5th Floor Garrison,
Where lived the car antennae of Harrison.
We had no care for the RA's;
Too bad the weekend didn’t last for days.
Oh! The wonders of the cabin.
For years we’ve wondered where it has been.
And the snow banks covered with pee,
Outside was the bathroom for me.
Oh! The joy of Center St. and Dudley’s,
Where we learned the importance of ID’s.
Beer flowed away with our money
While we tried to look for a honey.
Oh! Ode to the parties we have visited.
The bathrooms galore we peed in.
We will never forget the memories
Because they are too beautiful, like my homies.
(Oh, man, that is a painful, awful ending, but apparently it is all I had at the time. But doesn't it remind you of all the great times we had?? Harrison Ford's antennae! Who remembers that?)
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