My mom always has a problem with my socks. Once when I brought my laundry over, she made me count them. She stood over me with a cane and watched as I did so. I prayed there would be an even number and success!, there was. I escaped a beating. You may be wondering about this cane. She was in a car accident and couldn’t walk or some shit like this. But my laundry she could do. I’m fairly certain she enjoys doing it or else she wouldn’t. Right?
Anywho, that was probably the only time I ever gave her the proper amount of socks. And she always calls me and she’s like “Diana. You gave me 37 socks. Why can’t you just put them in the hamper together? Where are they? Can you please look for it because I just don’t understand how you could give me 37 socks and where is this other one?” And seriously we have 20 minute conversations where she’s harassing me about my socks and I just say okay, mom. I promise to be more responsible with the socks. I’M SORRY you adopted a fuckup. I’m sorry, OKAY?!
Other times she calls me to tell me I’m a filthy whore and why are the 37 socks so dirty? Why can’t I wear slippers and why is my floor so dirty. And I’m like, why are you asking me so many GOD DAMN questions, woman. Apparently she has to stand over a sink and bleach those fuckers. And I’m like, well mom. The cleaning lady hasn’t been here. And uhm, I promise to wear slippers. I’m sorry. But that conversation is also 20+ minutes and I just wonder if there is some sort of Guinness Book of World Records record for how long you could talk about socks. It sure would be lovely to get an award for the trouble she puts me through.
Dear NBC Universal,
I was doing some site maintenance on my fabulous blog when I stumbled upon one of my stories “best | scene ever.” It was the scene in “The Hitcher” where John Ryder, eloquently played by Sean Bean, is driving his Camaro and shooting at cops with NIN “Closer” as the soundtrack. It makes me warm inside. And so I says, oh my, I love this scene! It is certainly the best | scene ever. Let me watch it. And so I did what any person would do when they want to watch a YouTube video they think is awesome. I pressed play.
And do you know what douchebaggery I saw? “This video is no longer available due to a copyright claim by NBC Universal.” What? WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK, NBC?! Those are just some of the things that went through my mind. And then some more.
I want to meet the troll that is responsible for policing Youtube for this copyright infringement. You are as good in this world as New York City meter maids as you both learned how to rape us in the same way. While the City spends millions making signs to confuse us so we pay millions in tickets, you spend millions paying actors to get us to like your movies. And then when we actually do, you take away any enjoyment we might have had watching/listening to it after we originally paid to see it.
But despite the similarities you share with this fine city, there is one huge difference. I can fuck you right back. And so I will. All I wanted was the 15 second scene. But now I want the entire movie. So I will download it. Illegally. I also went your site. I’m going to illegally download everything I see there, too. Except “The Last House on the Left.” I want to see that in the theater. But I’ll probably just sneak in. So in yo face, NBC. In yo moms face, too.
In addition, I’d like to note that the picture used in this blog is from your website. Sue me. I dare you.
This morning, as I checked the temperature on la nueva york uno, I realized that umbrellatoday.com hadn’t text me yet to warn me to bring an umbrella. Then I realized it was because there had yet to be any rain to be warned about since I signed up. This was enough for me. Temperature – check. No text means no rain – check.
But then, at 8AM, while I was sitting uncomfortably on the train, I get a text from umbrellatoday. Know what it said? It said “Take an umbrella today, dumbass. It’s going to rain!” Well fuckity fuck fuck. How nice of you to warn me of this when I’ve already left the house. Without an umbrella.
This made me ponder – why are you texting me at 8AM? Why not, say, 6AM when I’m still at home? Or even 7AM. I’ll even settle for 7:45:07. But an 8AM rain alert text in New York is just douchebaggery. Then I went to the site to investigate further. They apparently have options as to what time you want your text sent and in which time zone. This doesn’t make any sense. If I want the weather in New York, why would I request it sent in any other time zone but the one I live in? Like, yeah. Tell me if its raining here but let me know that info when its 5PM in Lisbon. Jeez.