I'm Original K? Bye.

So it seems like there's no more originality left in the universe. Or if you try to be original, you are accused of being a pretentious-hipster-cunt-douchebag-copier of legends.  I guess the only way to stand out now-a-days is to be offensive and controversial. You have to explore taboo subjects.  Or show images of women with menstruating during daily activities.  Even though these photographs make me wanna barf, I still like it in a weird way. It turns my head, k?

In other originality news, me and my friends threw a lavish decade bash in which each person came as their favourite decade.  

Guess which decade I was and win a free Canon EOS Rebel XS!

We had it in this abandoned warehouse in this grungy area in tdot and 200 people showed up and I'm pretty sure someone slipped Ecstasy in my drink because I woke up surrounded by a bunch of naked people.

JOKESSSS!

We had it at my friend's house.  There were seven people (one guy in a hip suit).  We listened to music.  We took pictures. We ate chips and pop tarts.  Oh yes! We also ate strawberries. 

90s TV and Dear Diary Goths

So I'll probably rot in my room this summer and when the coroners discover my body, all they'll find is my laptop next to me, the Internet opened to putlocker, paused on a 90s television show.  And it'll probably be Twin Peaks since it's next on my list of required recommended viewing.

I'm slowly turning into the type of internet drone Nicholas Carr describes in The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains and the irony in my diagnosis is that I didn't even finish this COMM1101 required reading.

The internet possess a contradictory quality: it is both amazing and horrible at the same time. Amazing because previous nobodies in society---thirteen year olds, socially awkward bald guys---can rise up to the spotlight and invoke puke-green jealousy within their lazy peers.  Horrible because previous nobodies in society---thirteen year olds, socially awkward bald guys---can rise up to the spotlight and invoke puke-green jealousy within their lazy peers.

So if you, like me, are amazed and horrified at the same time by the magical powers of the Internet and still remain inactive or a target to the seductive nature of this porn hub, do the following:

1. Deactivate your Facebook and instead, write letters to this guy. If you are attractive, slip your picture in the envelope; it'll be great jacking-off material for him.  Remember, only do this if you are attractive.

2. Write and record 30 second songs about the absurdity of life and your mission to break free of the poisonous spell it induces.  Here are some sample lyrics:

Stars shine in my eyes

Blood stings in my toes

in a melancholy haze

Black cover come upon 

Black cover come upon me

I'm alive 

I'm alive

I'm alive 

(Fade out)

Note: Add background noise so it better conveys the intensity of the flawed world.  

3. Go a step further and take photos of yourself in this Dear Diary goth phase. Share on Tumblr. 

Why is Real Life so Unsexy?

Seriously, why is real life so unsexy? God, I guess hours of SATC watching and other 90s-single-folks-living- in-New York-television has filled my mind with idealistic visions of the world.  On Saturday, me and my friends went to this graphic novel and OCAD graduation exhibition thang in Toronto.  We were excited - well I was-because it meant that I finally had a chance to get out of my Facebook oogling stupor and wear my Angela Chase-inspired naked dress and pair 'em with my five inch so-out-of-style wedges.

Unsexy Thing #1

I had to WALK fifteen minutes to take the TRANSIT (well I didn't, thank God I got a ride but still) and commute an additional 70 minutes to reach the grand T.O. which of course meant that I had to grab at the very last minute, a pair of nasty, peeling, pink flip flops which I wore to take showers in my University dorm.

I could feel the smirking and pity-filled eyes of soccer moms and 20-somethings while waiting at the bus shelter...alone (because I live in a hick town). I decided to change into my flip-flops because I wanted to get some change at the gas station across the street and since there's a major highway in that vicinity, I was thinking that it would not end cutely if I crossed the street in my $15 dollar sky high wedges.  So once again, suburbanites witnessed as I retrieved my ugly two dollar flip-flops from my tattered white plastic bag, removed my beautiful brown wedges and placed the rubber flip flops on my bruised feet.

Seriously, where the cabs at? Where were the yellow NYC cabs lining the street waiting for a fashion victim like myself to pass by or the black stretch limo with Mr. Big a sexy young twall man?  I mean Carrie Bradshaw was certainly not taking the bus (except for that one episode) and changing into her nasty pink flip flops to cross the street.  Oh I know, she has money.  And directors that yell cut between 30-second shots so people can rub her feet.

Unsexy Thing #2

At the Comic Arts Festival, I was approached by this short 30-something year old guy and me and my friends were stared down in the subway by this creepy old guy.  Like girl, don't you see that I'm in Givenchy???  Why can't the sexy guys approach us? Oh I know, it's because they're intimidated by our ten inch heels and lion fur.

The guy at the festival  asked, "Can I talk to you?" I replied, "I'm with my friends." He persisted for about 30 seconds until my friend saved me and pulled me away with a "we're 18."  Where's Chris Hansen when you need him?

We lasted for an additional 30 seconds and bounced because we had a press conference in Milan.

Unsexy Thing#3

CHYAAA chilling with my gyaldems @ tdot. #REPRESENT

We ended up chilling at some grassy location at a certain University's campus.  And no, there were no sensitive, tortured artists lying on the grass, contemplating their existential lives. It was just us.  And a squirrel.  And two little birds. One took a shit in front of us.

Unsexy Thing#4

Oh you poor, poor, idealistic girl.

Lo and behold, we ended up changing into our flats. And running to catch the 9:16 bus because it's the last bus and none of us have our licenses or cars.

Is real life unsexy because I'm an unemployed suburban teenager?  Or is it actually mundane and hours of watching 90s TV programming has left me with unrealistic visions of the city life? Most likely the latter. I guess I just have to accept the unsexy-ness of real life and just live through Carrie Bradshaw and her New York City cab rides.