On The Perpetual Stupidity of Women On The Internet

20SB Blog Swap 3Today’s guest post is brought to you by
Beth from b e t h i s.

This is all part of the 20 Something BloggersBlog Swap 3
Don’t forget to go check out my post over on her site.

Candice has a little bit of a rant blog, but one of those good rant blogs, not one of those annoying rant blogs (you know the type I am talking about). I tend to get into the rant myself from time to time, but I want to post a specific rant here on a topic Candice has touched on in various forms through her posts: The Perpetual Stupidity of Women On The Internet and Also In Real Life.

Now, I’ve talked about my occasional airheadedness in the past. But at least I present myself to the world with a little bit of class and intelligence. I think, in general, I am confused about why class and intelligence have fallen out of favor with young women.

Example: Facebook. If I see one more goddamn picture on Facebook (and by picture, I mean ENTIRE ALBUMS) tagged of a girl wearing a shirt as a dress and drunk or puking or sitting on some guys face or puking while sitting on some guys face, I am going to throw my computer out the window. Actually, I might just plant a virus so that all these girls get punched in the face every time they tag that shit. The question is, when did it become cool to show the world what a fucking idiot you are?

I’m not saying that I never puke while sitting on a guys face, but I don’t publicize it over and over again for the public to revel in. I don’t make albums entitled “Let’s drink up sluts!” and “My bitches, my bong.” (OK, that one is actually kind of funny) or “Sluts! Skanks!”. And I certainly do not make albums entitled “Lil’ Hottie” full of pictures THAT I TOOK OF MYSELF.

I think this trend is making our gender/generation look foolish. It actually concerns me sometimes. I am a big believer in fun, don’t get me wrong, but where are we going to draw the line?

So here is a list of cringe-worthy stupidity that women our age need to stop doing immediately:

  • Uhh, wearing uggs, sweatpants and northface jackets all the time in public. Thanks for noting this Candice (PS- stealing “clonetastic”… genius).
  • Saying “Oh, I like all music except, like, country.” and other similar phrases. You should probably think about having an opinion. It’s not offensive (or hard) to have a preference.
  • Staying in dead-end relationships/hooking up with people they don’t actually like. This one frustrates me to no end. I may be perpetually single, but at least I can last more than a week without hooking up with a random douche just out of boredom.
  • Not using birth control, or misusing birth control. … Really, ladies? We’re still doing this?
  • Getting into drunken physical altercations.

Feel free to comment with more; I’m sure there are endless examples. And like I said, by no means am I Anti-Fun, but I am more Pro-Using Brains. I think we all need to wikipedia the word “class” and learn a few things.
In summary, I need to turn my blog into a rant blog because that was way too satisfying. And as Ron Burgundy says, stay classy San Diego skanks.

Shotgun Weekend

Ah, the weekend. Two weeks ago, I didn’t have these. If you don’t have a job, go to school, or belong to a religion that observes a holy day of some sort, the week has no beginning, and no end. It’s an endless loop of doing whatever the fuck you want. You don’t know what day of the week it is, and it doesn’t matter. You don’t know what time it is, and it doesn’t matter. If you feel like getting drunk at 10am on a Tuesday, that’s alright. You can go to bed at 4pm, and wake up hungover at midnight. If you feel like using an entire day to alphabetize everything in your house, that’s fine, too. You won’t feel like you’ve wasted time you could have used to do something that was somehow better. You don’t need to feel like you’re having the most fun, the best possible fun, the most fun per ounce, every second of your free time, every single day — because time is one thing you’re definitely not short on.

But this weekend shit is stressful. I don’t need all this pressure to have a good time. I kind of feel like sitting here, doing absolutely nothing, which is pretty much what I am actually doing. But I feel like I could be enjoying myself so much more effectively doing something else. I’m going to regret this later on, I know it. Tonight, just as soon as I realize that there were so many other things I could have done instead, and I missed the opportunity. Definitely tomorrow, when it’s Sunday, and it’s my last chance to get things done (before 5pm when everything closes, at that — talk about pressure). And on Sunday night, when it’s the last minute, it’ll really already be too late. I’ll have to go to bed early to wake up on Monday. Ah, Monday. When I’ll want to shoot myself in the face for having wasted the weekend.

I really kind of like sitting around doing nothing. So why does it feel like such a waste of time? Or, why should I feel like wasting time is not something I should be okay with?

How to Blogetize Your Money

How to Make Money With Your Blog. Blah. SEO. Blah. Monetization. Blah. Boring. Lame. Gay. Gay gay gay gay super gay.

Here’s the only tip that matters: have a blog that doesn’t suck. Then make money as an afterthought. Preferably by supplementing your excellent content with more excellent content, in a form that people might potentially pay for.

Or just do as everyone else does… Have an entire blog entirely about making money with your blog, for other people with blogs about making money (with your blog). Have fun with your little optimization clusterfuck of optimal lameness, and keep your shit off of the rest of the internet. Thank you.

I dunno. Do you really want readers who are lame enough to stick around as regulars to read your PayPerPost BS, anyway? I don’t like lame readers. I don’t have a terrible lot of readers, but the ones I do have are typically not idiots, or at the very least, are smart enough not to make stupid comments. I could never tolerate the kind of reader who might actually believe that I was motivated to try out such and such a software package on my own, or that I’m seriously looking into a vacation at some dumbshit resort. Or worse, to know that it wasn’t the case, and read with interest anyway. You dopes with sites like this might not be lying, but at the same time, you certainly don’t come off as genuine, and reading your textual diarrhea makes me textually vomit (as seen here).

Bleh bleh. Fuck, I can’t wait until the whole thing collapses under the weight of its own stupidosity. Does anyone visit any of those sites with any regularity, other than people trying to do the same shit? Oh, wait. I might be doomed to deal with it a little while longer, until people smarten up (riiiiight). Because while you’re looking for regular readers to visit on a regular basis and comment with regularity (and they will — but only because they want the regular return traffic), what you really want is organic traffic. In other words, hits from people who are probably looking for something other than your dumb shit site, but are too dumb to find it, and miss their target. In which case, your entire website is a giant hunk o’ spam. Shit they weren’t looking for, and don’t want. They might stick around, because like attracts like, but the ones that click your ads are looking for a way out. Hopefully one that leads them to what they were looking for in the first place. Please delete. Your niche-garbage is polluting my internets with stupid. And ugly.

I have one freakin’ block of ads on my site, and I use it to cover the whoooole $5 that my hosting costs (in fact, I’ll probably start taking it down after I reach that point each month), and I really do hope that the majority of you are using an ad-blocker, because really, I only want the people searching for vagina and fucking vagina and penis fucking vagina and gay penis fucking vagina (what?) etc. to see the darn thing. If I knew that any of you regular readers were stupid enough to move their mouse-cursor anywhere near it… (hm, is it against the rules to tell people not to click my ads? I’ll have to check into that…)

I liked the internet better in 1994.

How about we start calling this shit what it is, though. If making money is the first thing on your mind… if you’re picking a “niche” specifically because you think it will earn you cash… if you’re optimizing things for search engines first and regular, intelligent readers second (or as often seems the case — not at all)… You’re not monetizing, you’re blogetizing. And I don’t like you.

One big Ponzi scheme.

When did the internet turn into a combination of a bad self-help book, an infomercial, a get-rich-quick-scheme? It all leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. I don’t want to hear from self-proclaimed, critically-acclaimed, experts in expertise about positive affirmations, efficiency tips, monetization techniques, optimization approaches, best practices, self esteem, keyword research, passive income, active participation, proactive marketing, secrets of happiness (least of all “the” secret), life hacks, usability measures, productivity skills, synonyms of synonyms of synonyms. I’m pretty sure those are all alternative terms for Fucking Gay, anyway, and yes, there is something wrong with that.

I don’t care about your iPhone. I don’t care that nobody else cares about your iPhone. I was sick of Web 2.0 five minutes before I ever heard of it, and I’m sick of hearing about how sick everybody else is about hearing about Web 2.0, and about how ironic it is that everyone, in talking about how sick they are of hearing about Web 2.0, is contributing to the overabundance of bullshit on the Web 2.0 about Web 2.0. I’m not going to attend the Web 2.0 panel at the Web 2.0 conference, and since I’m not cool enough to attend anyway, I’m not going to use Web 2.0 applications to experience it vicariously, because I’m too cool for that. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to read Tweets about your lifecast while watching you read Tweets about lifecasting on your lifecast. Lifecast is a misnomer, anyway. There ought to be more lifecasts by people who actually have lives.

I don’t want to read eight million blogging blogs about how to blog about blogging about blogs about blogging. I’m pretty sure the best way to start a money-making blog these days is to make sure it tells other people all about the best way to start a money-making blog. I’m not going to read your blog carnival of blog carnival carnivals, and that is one carnival I would certainly not spend an afternoon. I’ll stick to the sort where they serve funnel cakes, thank you. The only thing I can be paid to post about is how lame it is to be paid to post. This shit is self perpetuating. It’s cheesy. It’s phony. It’s boring. You’re all a bunch of big, fat, boring, cheesy phonies. I can’t wait until this non-industry crashes, or at least evolves into something else that I can rant about with renewed vehement vigour using whatever new overrated emerging technology emerges. Until then, ceiling cat is watching your circlejerk, jerkoffs.

When did cynicism, sarcasm, snarkism become negative things?

P.S. “Negativity can be treated by several types of intervention strategy, including cognitive-affective stress management and progressive muscle relaxation.”

P.P.S. I do have one productivity tip to offer. Stop reading so much about productivity tips. You’ll find you’ve got at least 17 extra hours a day to devote to figuring out where to stick your widget. (I have a few tips about that, too.)

Reddit ready for the summary? Suck my Digg dick.

Flip-flops are never acceptable footwear.

Unless you’re at a gym, a pool, a spa, or maybe the beach. Tacky, tacky, tacky, tacky. Tacky. When they’re nice enough looking that they could be called “thong sandals”, I’m willing to let it slip, especially if they’ve got heels (I own a pair or two). But otherwise, quit it. And walking with someone whose feet keep going “smack smack smack smack smack” is definitely high up on my list of things that I could do without. Also, say hello to:

  • Sore arches and heels, which can progress to chronic conditions, including inflamed Achilles tendons and plantar fasciitis, inflammation of the connective tissue between the heel bone and the toes.
  • Heel calluses (from the pounding).
  • Hammer toes (from the gripping).
  • Irritation between the toes (from the toe thongs), which can lead to nasty fungal infections.

(From Trouble afoot with flip-flops – USATODAY.com)

(Sorry, I was just outside, and saw one too many pairs of ugly-ass feet with fallen arches and ragged toenails. At least remove your chipped nail polish?)

Shit list

$370 to replace a lost green card! I thought $290 was excessive, but I hadn’t noticed the additional $80 biometrics fee. What the fuckity fuck? That’s it… The USCIS is now officially at the top of my Asshole Organizations I Have to Deal With shit list, which is as follows:

  1. USCIS
  3. UPS
  4. Comcast
  5. Microsoft
  6. Dell
  7. Capital One
  8. Wells Fargo
  9. Wal-Mart
  10. AT&T

Okay, fuck. It’s time to eliminate pennies.

No Change For You: AMC Theaters “Doesn’t Carry Nickels?” – Consumerist

Apparently, AMC doesn’t carry nickels (uh, duh, see the headline above). Presumably, then, they don’t carry pennies, either. And why should they? When a teensy tray of nachos costs $8, and you’re already being ripped off (fer fuck’s sake — maybe get rid of the 9,823,745 flat screens showing a static menu, and charge a bit less), why would anyone care about five cents? And why the hell would anyone care about one cent? They fucking wouldn’t.

There are a number of people passing through my apartment on a regular basis, and three or four or five people here on a regular basis. These people obviously don’t care about pennies at all, because when I go to vacuum (and I’m the only one that ever does it, by the way…), there are 982,734 pennies on the floor. I have to stop every time I find one to bend over and pick it up. The value of a penny is now less than the amount we’d expect to be paid to bend over. Seriously. If someone was to ask me to bend over, I’d demand… at least a quarter. And if you ask me… any denomination of currency that the average person can’t be bothered to reach down to the ground to pick up… That denomination has no sense existing. The sooner we eliminate the penny, the sooner my back rejoices.

Fucking almost missed Star Trek

Comcast! Must! Die!

Cable went out today. After checking all the connections in our apartment pointlessly (because this shit is never our fault), I concluded that it must have been some Comcast-related asshattery. It wasn’t that we hadn’t paid them (for once), so I walked over to the laundry room, where the incoming line to our apartment building is split.

Seems that Comcast had been around to physically disconnect one of our neighbours (I helpfully reconnected them), and that in doing so, they’d also unplugged the transformer belonging to the main signal amplifier for every cable line connected in that room. Thanks for that! At least they hadn’t completely removed it.

Infinitely more satisfying than calling Comcast, and getting a tech to come out sometime between tomorrow at 9am and never. Especially since I can pretty much guarantee that tech would say “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, we’ll have to get one of the techs that actually has some training to come take a look at it — in a month”.

Die die die die die.

You’re welcome, neighbours.

Noise Control

Part of my neighbourhood is a quiet zone, because there are lots of old, dying people living there. So, why does the church down the road get away with it’s damned ding-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-ding-ding fifty-seven times every day? It’s fuckin’ annoying, is what it is (and a poor excuse for music, I can tells ya). I have a hunch that if I decided to get up on top of my building and ring some loudassed bells every morning when reasonable people were still trying to sleep, I might get myself into a bit of trouble. Goddamned church!