My ordinary life in exaggeration...

When I was a young child, I had no friends so I created a world of my own. Now I am older and I can't leave.


Things I learned from watching this week’s The L Word:

-Skinny boys have the biggest cocks.
-Straight people feel discriminated by the police against when they live in a gay mecca.
-Teenagers are just dying to give their drugs away to strangers.
-You should be careful about being a lesbian because one time these two girls got caught going down on each other in a fast food restaurant so their parents sent them away to different boarding schools and one of them killed herself.
-Jenny’s writing fails to improve when she is high on shrooms.
-You can sue someone for accepting your boyfriend’s sperm donation.
-The phrase “liquor in the front, poker in the rear” makes me giggle every time I hear it.
-Calling yourself a lesbian-identified man amounts to giving up your straight male privilege and making yourself a second class citizen.

I also have to agree with Jenn that their first introduction of an Asian character was not so good.

In other news, I got to play with hydrochloric acid today in the lab.


If these walls could talk... they would SCREAM.

Ok, I guess that I have designated myself the lesbian pop culture commentator for this journal. But, I am not the token lesbian. (The LESBOtron is.) Although I don't mind letting others assume that I do, I don't really identify as a lesbian. Then again, I don't really identify as anything, hence the psychotic online journal. However, I definitely have a lot of knowledge of and exposure to lesbian culture.

Earlier today, I decided to watch my roommate's copy of "If These Walls Could Talk II." Now, you may or may not be as well acquainted with online lesbian personal ads as I am (I really enjoy reading these, purely for their entertainment value), but this film is often listed under the "favourite movie" category. I knew better than to assume that this would mean that the movie was actually any good.

I studied the DVD cover and the first thing I noticed was that all five of the women on the cover were Blonde and Blue-eyed. (Ok, technically one was green-eyed and had light brown hair but still...) This frightened me, in a "Children of the Corn" sort of way. So as not to contradict its own cover, the movie itself features these five women as its main characters. This kind of irks me, because it claims to be a movie about "women. love. women." as opposed to "blond & blue-eyed white women. love. other blond & blue-eyed white women." Of course, there are a few brunette supporting characters and an African American roommate.

There are three consecutive segments/"plots" in this "movie." In the first one which takes place in 1961, an elderly lesbian loses her partner of 30+ years and is kicked out of their home because it was in her partner's name. This all sad and touching, but leaves me to wonder why didn't she write a will? I mean, they were old. She's all acting like this martyr when this is also a result of their own poor planning. Then there's a cute segment with Chloe Sevigny and it's kind of hot but not very interesting.

So far this sounds ok albeit boring but I haven't gotten to the low point, the third segment where Sharon Stone and Ellen are a lesbian couple that want to have a baby. After a bad interview with a potential donor, the next scene has them sitting on the hood of their white jeep which is parked above a playground. They are staring at the playing children, pointing out the especially cute ones to each other. ("Look at him. Is he not the cutest little boy?") Is this not creepy as hell? All they need are the trench coats and child molester sunglasses. I kept thinking that they would run up and grab one of the children and take it home with them, which would have actually been kind of entertaining. They didn't.

In the next scene G.I. Jane is looking up sperm banks on the internet and she actually suggests that, "Maybe we should think about having an ethnic baby. Ethnic babies are so beautiful." What the fuck? What exactly is an "ethnic baby" and why are these "ethnic babies" so beautiful? This is just gross, especially in a movie that was already really really white. Degeneres is upset by this but not for the more obvious reason. She wants the baby to look like her. ("Do I look Indonesian?") Then Sharon says that she wants the child to look exactly like Ellen. (Yes, the characters have actual names, but they are dumb ones like "Fran.") If this was a bad Sci-Fi movie, then she would carry Ellen's clone. That would have been kind of entertaining, too. But no entertainment for me, and yet I am a masochist so I kept watching.

Then Ellen turns down a brownie because she "refuses to get fat over this process." EW! There's some obligatory sex scene which I didn't find hot, probably because the characters are so gross. In the end, they decide to go with a carpenter donor because Jesus was a carpenter. I'm not kidding. But the bank is out of Jesus's sperm so they get a professor's sperm instead. Afterwards, they go back to the playground to stare at the kids some more. Some mother picking up her kids asks if they have children enrolled in that school and they say no. Instead of telling them to stop being so fucking creepy, she says, "You should try it. Good luck." In the end, they get impregnated. I didn't know that this movie was supposed to be a horror story.

I know, this movie came out a few years ago and there are many more thorough reviews like this review by Susie Bright. I just needed to add my own comments here. Also, don't watch this, it's awful.

In other news, we got our Girl Scout cookies delivered today. Mmmmmmmmmmm.


Psi Phi Chi

I guess it's been a while since I last posted. Larissa claims that people were asking me to post but I'm pretty sure she was mocking me. In spite of this emotional abuse, I've decided to give you all a short update.

So, I was wondering around the campus of Duke University, looking for some brains to eat, when a certain building caught my eye. It was pretty and gothic, like most of Duke is , but there was a sign posted with three strange symbols on it. (I think they were Greek, but what do I care? My siblings were tutored in the classics, but my parents kept me locked up in the basement because they said I was an aberration.) There were loud noises coming from inside and I could smell the kegs of Miller Light from at least 100 yards away. A little known fact about the porcupine moose is that we love us some cheap beer.

I strolled in to find a bunch of disheveled undergrads sitting in front of a television. They said they were members of a "fraternity." I asked them for a beer. They invited me to watch football with them.

Several hours and drinks later, I went outside for a piss. When I returned, "Queer Eye For the Straight Guy" was on. One of the boys saw that I was back and quickly changed the channel, claiming that they had passed out during the football game and hadn't bothered to switch channels. I went upstairs to explore the rest of the house. I decided to go through their record collection. I opened up an O.A.R. case found a Justin Timberlake CD inside. I came back downstairs and this time they were watching "Sex and the City." Also, two of them were making out.

They freaked out when they saw me and begged me not to tell anyone, especially not their girlfriends. I promised to keep their secret as long as they let me eat their brains. Strangely, they went along with this, saying that no one would even notice.

I hung around for a week, drinking beer and taking Cosmo quizzes with them. I felt that it was time for me to move on, but they begged me to stay. They wanted to make me their mascot. I briefly considered their offer until they told me that this involved me wearing a wig and high heels. I may be a three-headed zombie moose of indeterminate gender, but I will NOT wear stilettos.


Monkey Vs. Robot

That stupid bitch LArissa finally gave me permission to be the official political commentator for this journal. Logically, this makes sense. See, LArissa is too radical/leftist to provide anything close to an impartial view, HAir GeL is completely apathetic, and The MoOse is only interested in eating your brains. But I am a lesbian robot bent on renaming this planet LESBOplanet, so the world of politics is my natural domain. Also, any sentence with the word "bush" in it makes my TITanimum antennae go aquiver. I'm going to do a quick run-down of events leading to the 2004 presidential election.

This may be hard for you to believe, but I actually know George W. Bush personally. You see, we hail from the same Alma Mater. No, I'm not talking about Yale. This was before Yale. This was decades ago when we both were young and we attended the Monkey-Robot Elementary School. Bush was (obviously) enrolled in all the monkey classes. He was always at the head of his class, the smartest monkey in the school. The other monkeys were jealous and made fun of his more human-like features. Bush grew tired of being the outcast and decided to run away from the school. He went out into the world with the best monkey education that money could buy and was able to pass as a human. He ran for governor of TexaS, and the rest is history.

Now we have Senator John Kerry. You've probably seen him on television numerous times. To the casual observer, he may appear to be relatively normal. Ok, but I bet you're not just a casual observer. I bet you've noticed what I've noticed: his wooden voice, stiff angular movements, unusually thick head of (metallic) grey hair... Robot!

This should not surprise anyone. It's not like we haven't seen this all happen before. Anyway, my bet is on the robot this time.

Alveoli Alveola

The lab that I work in is part of a major hospital. The hallway that I pass on my way to and from the lab has a smoking lounge. There are always people walking in and out of this lounge. Today, I saw a man leaving the smoking lounge who was pulling one of those stands that hold bags of intravenous fluid which are attached to you through a syringe needle in your forearm. I guess that I'm being judgmental, but it flips me out every time.

On a similar note, what is up with Frankie on the Real World smoking cigarettes? Does she not know what it means to have cystic fibrosis? See, this is what I love about reality television. In a show with a pre-written script, Frankie would probably be punished for this by ending up sick in the hospital, but real life never happens that way.


Texture Shine Texture Line

I am an inanimate object. This is not as boring as it may sound. You might think that I would feel trapped in my inability to move myself but this is not the case. Inanimate objects are not like living things who want to eat and run and procreate. We are completely apathetic. This is because we live in non-linear time. We know when the universe began and how it will end. If you had this knowledge, then you would be apathetic as well.


Keratoconjuctivitis can't get me down.

I got a new badge at work today. Under my picture, it says "Service Begins With Me." This makes me so happy.

Driving home from work I heard a song on the radio called "Stella was a diver and she was always down." This also makes me happy.

Did anyone see this week's The L Word where Jenny faints from low blood sugar? I burst out laughing, because she's the skinniest one on the show.


Girl or Boil

I recently read an article in Newsweek magazine entitled "Brave New Babies." Basically, it was about gender selection among human couples. This idea began to concern me a great deal for two main reasons. One, the process of gender selection is rather expensive (up to $20,000) so this procedure can only be afforded by upper and upper-middle class families. Secondly, while the exact percentages differ depending on the country and the polling methods used, there is always a statistically significant preference for boys over girls. (I do not understand this trend since males are far more repulsive and unintelligent than their female counterparts but the human race is perpetually devoid of logic.) When added together, these two trends can only lead to a terrible conclusion: rich people will have fewer female offspring, while poor people will continue to have the same number. This will eventually cause an increase in the economic disparity between men and woman. As a metallic machine with no emotions, I do not care about the fate of you illogical meat puppets. However, as a lesbian robot with strong ambitions for world takeover that hinge on my ability to control women through pleasure, this is extremely disconcerting for me. If women have even less economic power in the future, then their manipulation will be less effective. I urge all women to undermine the sexual reproductive system by reproducing asexually through parthenogenesis!