<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922</id><updated>2011-07-30T11:32:58.887-07:00</updated><category term='Tom Brady'/><category term='eagles'/><category term='quarterlife'/><category term='pagan'/><category term='carpeting'/><category term='Urban Outfitters'/><category term='john mayer'/><category term='camel-toe'/><category term='advertising'/><category term='Celtics'/><category term='dating'/><category term='Disney'/><category term='self-help'/><category term='Wall-E'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/16012163_05_b?$prodmain$'/><category term='liberals'/><category term='conservatives'/><title type='text'>MalApropos</title><subtitle type='html'>Get it?  Because my name is Mal.  And I'm inappropriate.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-8528895580769359121</id><published>2010-04-07T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T18:32:52.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Plight of the MA, or WAH WAH WAH</title><content type='html'>At least three times a week, I wake up at 4:45 in the morning, dress in a black polo shirt, and a pair of black pants with frayed hems and faded knees--pants which I have been wearing five days a week for the last eight months.  I brush my teeth, and stumble through the streets of Somerville half-asleep, jingling the key in my pocket to make sure it's there and I won't arrive at work only to find that I have to turn right around again.  For the next eight hours, I steam milk, pump syrup, pull shots, clean up messes, get yelled at for pumping the wrong amount of syrup, wrestle with frozen sandwiches and 25 lb boxes of coffee, and talk to everyone--coworkers, customers, hangers-on--about jobs.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because, you see, none of us have them.  Or at least not the ones we want.  Almost everyone I work with is a college grad, two of us have our MAs, all of us are currently looking for employment that doesn't involve a green apron.  I have been searching now for 14 months, and am in the exact same position I was before I obtained my $45,000 education.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, I understand that I am lucky to have a job at all, and especially lucky to have received a promotion three months after I began working so that my wages are almost livable (emphasis on the "almost"), but that doesn't change the fact that I worked for 6 years getting the education that was supposed to set me apart, and all it did was delay my entrance into the work force and make me a full-time latte peddler instead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the job search, which should be a point of hope--every time I get an interview, for example, my mood should be lightened--has, in fact, become a continuous crushing blow to my confidence.  Perhaps that is because I have had a particularly unlucky run.  I was sent to the wrong interview by HR in one instance, which was quite possibly the most embarrassing and confusing experience of my life.  I have interviewed for two jobs where there were internal applicants and I was a pawn in the HR game of equal opportunity.  And in every instance where I have interviewed--EVERY SINGLE ONE--I have been assured that I was their second choice.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The biggest problem I face now is my own resolve.  I somehow have to balance an overwhelming feeling of defeat, inadequacy, and, let's face it, failure, with the necessary confidence it takes to get a job in the first place.  If you enter an interview with the attitude that you can't possibly get the job, then you won't get the job, but where can that confidence come from if you are told time and time again that although you are qualified for the position, and they really liked you, and your interview went very well, but "we just decided to go another way"? It's difficult to think anything but WHAT ELSE CAN I POSSIBLY FUCKING DO?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I try to stick to the small glimmers of hope that I have, and the little superstitions that get me through the day.  I will not, for instance, buy another pair of pants that meets dress code regulation because that would be a sign that I am giving in, that I am investing in my mocha-filled future, and that I will not get a job that I would actually mildly enjoy.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know that I'm not alone here, and I know that there are hundreds of thousands of people in my exact same position, but that doesn't make it any easier.  It really just reminds me of how many more people there are out there that I can come in second to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-8528895580769359121?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/8528895580769359121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=8528895580769359121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/8528895580769359121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/8528895580769359121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2010/04/plight-of-ma-or-wah-wah-wah.html' title='The Plight of the MA, or WAH WAH WAH'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-6578338715822222898</id><published>2009-03-03T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T08:39:05.338-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/16012163_05_b?$prodmain$'/><title type='text'>Welcome to another episode of WTF, brought to you by UO.com</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Do you ever have those days when you forget your pants?  Or forget the basic principles of everyday modesty?  Or forget what the difference is between "cute" and "ugly?"  Apparently Urban Outfitters does.  Sometimes I am sad that I give them so much money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Beware.  This may *actually* cause you physical pain:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 211px;" src="http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/16115206_67_a?$cat$" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Shhhh.  Don't scare it away.  This is the very rare skort-romper combination last seen on a four-year-old in 1982.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 390px;" src="http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/16012163_05_b?$prodmain$" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Oh, hello.  I seem to have forgotten my pants.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/16178915_04_b?$detailmain$"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 390px;" src="http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/16178915_04_b?$detailmain$" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me too!  Isn't it funny how we've been wearing pants all our lives and suddenly we don't find them necessary anymore?  Mmmmm, breezy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/16182230_10_b?$detailmain$"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 390px;" src="http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/16182230_10_b?$detailmain$" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I thought these were the ugliest, most unflattering things I had ever seen until...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/15988124_01_b?$detailmain$"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 390px;" src="http://images.urbanoutfitters.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/15988124_01_b?$detailmain$" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Oh. Dear. God.  Sheer body suit.  Lace bra. BUBBLE SHORTS? This makes me wish she had forgotten her pants.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-6578338715822222898?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/6578338715822222898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=6578338715822222898' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/6578338715822222898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/6578338715822222898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2009/03/welcome-to-another-episode-of-wtf.html' title='Welcome to another episode of WTF, brought to you by UO.com'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-6490571923834248896</id><published>2009-01-18T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T11:54:53.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Obviously, I made an impact.</title><content type='html'>Last semester I tried my hand at teaching for the first time, and while it was successful overall, I always felt like I wasn't completely getting through to my students.  There were many who didn't improve, who seemed happy to accept a B- and go on with their academic careers.  That's all fine and good, but when our student evaluations came last week, I at least wanted to see some sign that I wasn't going to go down as that completely ridiculous teacher who accidentally showed a picture of something being shoved into an asshole. (Always check what will come up in your YouTube recommendations before sharing with the class). &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The response was mostly positive, but there was one student who was consistently giving me bad numerical ratings, and who was negative overall in my review.  Turns out, it was because he/she (I am feigning ignorance here.  I know exactly who it was) thought I was too hard of a grader.  And in the comments he/she wrote the following:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If your going to be a hard grader, at least have a reason." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The proof is in the pudding.  I'm changing lives here people, just not their ability to distinguish between "your" and "you're" apparently.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-6490571923834248896?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/6490571923834248896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=6490571923834248896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/6490571923834248896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/6490571923834248896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2009/01/obviously-i-made-impact.html' title='Obviously, I made an impact.'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-4410411095632620300</id><published>2008-06-29T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T09:35:42.519-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Disney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wall-E'/><title type='text'>Worr-E</title><content type='html'>It's no secret that I have a certain (some would say unhealthy) affinity for all things Disney and Disneyland.  I celebrated both my high school *and* college graduation at Disneyland, the only difference between those and my childhood trips being the penis jokes that arose (excuse me) from the prevalence of signs advertising "foot-longs." (There are lots of hot dog stands there.) So, maturity all around, really.  Yesterday I dragged my (very cooperative, thank you) boyfriend to see "Wall-E" on opening weekend.  Yes, I paid $10.50 to watch a cartoon.  But it turns out, it was not just a good Disney movie, but a really good movie.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In fact, the main thing I would worry about with Wall-E, is that I have no idea how it is going to connect with kids.  The movie has almost no dialogue, and is really a pretty bold environmental and societal statement.  There are more references to "2001: A Space Odyssey" than anything else, and most of the jokes will go straight over kids' heads.  I think the kids sitting next to us dozed off halfway through the movie.  All of the laughs and awwws came from the adults in the audience (including me).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course, there is some hypocrisy inherent in the film, especially since it is coming from Disney. (Don't think just because I love to ride the Peter Pan ride, I don't know how evil Disney is.  It is an internal conflict I deal with every day.)  For those of you who don't know, Wall-E is a movie about a trash-compacting robot who is left on earth after it has been deemed uninhabitable by humans.  The remaining humans are left flying on Royal-Caribbean-style cruise spaceships, where their lives have become so sedentary that they take all their meals in cups and don't know how to walk.  There is an evil corporation that encourages nothing but buying and consuming (Disney, anyone?), overproduction of waste and pollution (Disney, anyone?), and an unhealthy brand alliance to the huge corporation (ahem).  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Disney-Pixar has released a film that is decidedly pro-environment, anti-corporation, and anti-consumption.  I'm assuming Wall-E dolls have already gone on sale.  Wall-E's love interest, Eve, would make a pretty cute clock radio.  And that wonder of a man, Steve Jobs, somehow got an ipod product placement, as well as the Apple start-up chime worked into the movie, which was otherwise--to my knowledge--devoid of any product placement.  Perhaps I am being a bit cynical here, but I can't help but think that Disney is doing nothing but capitalizing on the recent green movement (kind of like Wal-Mart's "see how green we are?" commercial that encourages consumers to buy Brita pitchers instead of water bottles).  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I loved the movie, but can't help but feel, well, a little suckered.  I wonder if my thinking "Great!  Disney finally released a socially-conscious movie" is exactly what they want me to think.  They have lured me in once again.  I'm just their puppet.  Like Pinocchio.  Ha.  Jiminy Cricket. I love that movie.  Wait, what was I talking about? I'll take that clock radio now.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-4410411095632620300?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/4410411095632620300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=4410411095632620300' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/4410411095632620300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/4410411095632620300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/06/worr-e.html' title='Worr-E'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-3839830152872720421</id><published>2008-06-24T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T12:50:23.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Under my umbrella...uh...uh...uh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'd like to thank eonline.com for this little gem (please take note of the first line): &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Rhxzm4uS_nA/SGFJu-yQjBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/n6XU0zfqm1s/s1600-h/Rihanna.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Rhxzm4uS_nA/SGFJu-yQjBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/n6XU0zfqm1s/s320/Rihanna.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215530914948353042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To be fair, I don't think anything can really be described as a "thinking-person's (something)," but this seems especially egregious.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although, she is a master at the extended metaphor:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Shut up and Drive"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been looking for a driver who's qualified&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So if you think that you're the one step into my ride&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With a sunroof top and a gangster lean.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So if you feel me let me know, know, know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Come on now what you waiting for, for, for&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My engine's ready to explode, explode, explode&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So start me up and watch me go, go, go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Get you where you want to go if you know what I mean&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Got a ride that's smoother than a limousine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can you handle the curves?  Can you run all the lights?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you can baby boy then we can go all night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Cause I'm 0 to 60 in 3.5&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Baby, you got the keys&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now shut up and drive, drive, drive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-3839830152872720421?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/3839830152872720421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=3839830152872720421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/3839830152872720421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/3839830152872720421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/06/under-my-umbrellauhuhuh.html' title='Under my umbrella...uh...uh...uh?'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Rhxzm4uS_nA/SGFJu-yQjBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/n6XU0zfqm1s/s72-c/Rihanna.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-50896162344665930</id><published>2008-06-13T13:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T13:39:53.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reason #7,342 I love European football</title><content type='html'>The Dutch go up 4-1 in the 91st minute against (a much higher ranked) France.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Announcer (yelling): "It's a Dutch oven, and the French are toast!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is the best thing any sports announcer has ever said.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Best. Sport. Ever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-50896162344665930?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/50896162344665930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=50896162344665930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/50896162344665930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/50896162344665930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/06/reason-7342-i-love-european-football.html' title='Reason #7,342 I love European football'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-229925956784278857</id><published>2008-06-12T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T09:14:24.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Strawberry Shortcomings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Noooo!  This is what the terrible people who own Strawberry Shortcake are doing to her:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://jezebel.com/assets/images/jezebel/2008/06/STRAWBERRYsmaller061208.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://jezebel.com/assets/images/jezebel/2008/06/STRAWBERRYsmaller061208.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is skinnier, freckle-less, and her hat now boasts a trendy bill.  The worst part?  She isn't even wearing an apron!  Blasphemy! Apparently, toy companies want to turn little girls into sassy bitches who constantly talk on their cell phones instead of playing with their adorable (and delicious-smelling) friendly cats.  Where has all the cuteness gone?  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just keep your hands off Rainbow Brite! &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.accessv.com/~shawgrp/RainbowBriteStarlitepic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.accessv.com/~shawgrp/RainbowBriteStarlitepic.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-229925956784278857?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/229925956784278857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=229925956784278857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/229925956784278857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/229925956784278857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/06/strawberry-shortcomings.html' title='Strawberry Shortcomings'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-8754180707532829814</id><published>2008-06-11T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T11:27:32.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dumb dub</title><content type='html'>I was recently watching the TV edit of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;40-Year-Old Virgin&lt;/span&gt;, and although most of the bad words were just bleeped out, sometimes they opted for a dub.  Most of them were just ridiculous (I think one was actually "mother butter"), but there was one scene where the phrase "Fuck me in the asshole" was replaced with "Fudge me in the rathole."  I'm not sure exactly what "Fudge me in the rathole" means, but it sounds a whole lot dirtier than the original phrase.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It reminds me of an edited version I once watched of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Good Will Hunting&lt;/span&gt;.  While Matt Damon and Robin Williams's characters are hugging it out, Damon says something to the effect of, "Does this violate the doctor-patient relationship?" The original reply: "Only if you grab my ass."  The edited reply: "Only if I turn around."  I think that elevates things a bit, no? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, American censorship.  How futile and ineffective you are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-8754180707532829814?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/8754180707532829814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=8754180707532829814' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/8754180707532829814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/8754180707532829814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/06/dumb-dub.html' title='Dumb dub'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-649643649602547566</id><published>2008-06-05T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T13:56:45.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To: Women   From: God</title><content type='html'>I was unfortunate enough today to come across &lt;a href="http://www.elle.com/featurefullstory/13908/walter-kirn-on-relationships-june-2008-elle.html?ybf1=1"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; article in &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Elle&lt;/span&gt; magazine, which masks itself as a feel-good article about unconventional beauty, but quickly turns into a self-righteous diatribe by the author in which he expects to be congratulated on his ability to be attracted to "average-looking" women.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The intro goes something like this:  He sees two girls in a bar.  One is "pretty."  One is not.  He goes for the one who isn't pretty because she doesn't throw up after meals (like the pretty one must). The pretty girl gets mad and the not-pretty girl falls all over herself with glee that she has finally upstaged her genetically gifted friend.    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So many things about this article bother me that I can't list them all here, but there is one thing in particular that many of the reactions to this article have seemed to leave out (google it--feminists are pissed): Kirn basically says that all pretty girls have terrible personalities.  According to him, pretty=vapid, shallow, and anorexic.  While he makes similarly unfounded generalizations about the non-pretty girls, at least they're making a good impression.  These ugly girls are interesting.  They eat pasta.  They are happier because they don't worry about the way they look.  But not only do the "pretty" girls that he talks about get automatically overlooked by him because they must be incredibly uninteresting, but they are also jealous and spiteful.  Obviously, when Kirn chooses the average girl over the pretty girl, the pretty girl doesn't know what is happening. There is a shift of power.  In short, the pretty girl gets pissed.  She probably pouts.  And then goes for a run (you know, so that she can still be skinny even if she didn't get hit on at the bar last night).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mr. Kirn basically boils down the female population to two categories: Pretty (i.e. boring, dumb, and obsessed with appearance) and Not Pretty (i.e. interesting, intelligent, and happy). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank god for you, Mr. Kirn.  I wish I could meet you so you could instantly judge me based on my appearance and then make me feel grateful because you like me better than my pretty friend. *Swoon*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-649643649602547566?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/649643649602547566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=649643649602547566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/649643649602547566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/649643649602547566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/06/to-women-from-god.html' title='To: Women   From: God'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-217322474159251895</id><published>2008-05-18T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T13:24:04.621-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Celtics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tom Brady'/><title type='text'>Tom Shady</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Being a recent transplant to Boston, I don't pretend to have any &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;sort of deep alliances to sports teams.  I have always liked the Celtics, so now I have an excuse to cheer for them, and I love the New England Revolution, even though the rest of the nation seems to have forgotten that the MLS even exists, but the buck stops there.  I am almost entirely indifferent to the Red Sox, or to be more specific, to the sport of baseball in general.  Interesting, then, that this recent incident would bother me so much.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The incident being Tom Brady, the pretty-boy supermodel-whipped "quarterback" of the New England Patriots, wearing a San Francisco Giants hat at game 7 of the Celtics-Cavs playoffs.  Like I said, my home-town sports pride is only 9 months deep, but Brady's blatant disrespect for one of the most revered aspects of the city of Boston just upped his douche-factor about 100%.  I get it; you were born in San Francisco.  I was born in San Diego, and I have much more of an alliance to the Padres than to the Sox, but I'm not going to sit courtside at a Boston Celtics game and wear a Padres hat.  It's Boston for Christ's sake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Congratulations, Tom.  Not only did you lose what was meant to be a sure-thing win at the Superbowl this year, but you have now elevated your douchebag status to the level of that one football player who was on The Bachelor.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, nice Stetson ad.  Nothing says "manly" like shearling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mimifroufrou.com/scentedsalamander/i/Tom%20Brady%20Original%20Stetson%20Ad2-thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.mimifroufrou.com/scentedsalamander/i/Tom%20Brady%20Original%20Stetson%20Ad2-thumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-217322474159251895?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/217322474159251895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=217322474159251895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/217322474159251895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/217322474159251895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/05/tom-shady.html' title='Tom Shady'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-7212113319862907191</id><published>2008-05-15T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T12:43:45.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so ahead of the curve.</title><content type='html'>Jezebel also finds the current trends at Urban Outfitters to be disgusting.  Hey.  You guys want to give me a job?  Yeah, thanks.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://jezebel.com/390903/5-hideous-things-urban-outfitters-wants-you-to-wear-this-summer"&gt;Plagiarism!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-7212113319862907191?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/7212113319862907191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=7212113319862907191' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/7212113319862907191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/7212113319862907191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-so-ahead-of-curve.html' title='I&apos;m so ahead of the curve.'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-355779681125154477</id><published>2008-05-01T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T10:18:59.340-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pagan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advertising'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='carpeting'/><title type='text'>Having doubts about carpet?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt; I think every person that has some level of quick wit or sarcasm at least once in their lives will be told, "You should really go into advertising."   My parents have told me that on numerous occasions, usually after I have just recounted a particularly funny story or postulated on how to improve the Bud Light team's marketing tactics ("This would really be more effective if they used green jell-o").  How that qualifies me for advertising, I'm not quite sure.  Every time it is mentioned, I flash back to the famous scene in The Graduate  concerning the word "plastics." But today, while procrastinating and watching Oprah interviewing the cast of Sex and the City (sidenote: I would do anything to never hear that Fergie song again) I thought, "Yes, maybe I should go into advertising."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why the sudden change of heart?  It was a carpet commercial for National Floors direct in which a woman, without any explanation or background information (it was, in fact, before the ad even stated which company it was advertising) proclaimed, "I'm a skeptic, but I needed some carpeting."  Apparently, skeptics don't like carpeting?  Carpeting causes gullibility? Did you know the word "carpet" isn't in the dictionary?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now, I'm all for the occasional low-budget commercial (can I get a Head-On?) but really, this just comes down to not making sense at all.  Whether the nice 50-something lady in the red turtleneck is a skeptic really has no bearing on whether or not she needed carpeting.  Maybe her feet were cold; maybe she spilled some red wine; maybe that pagan animal slaughter ritual got a little out of hand the other night; the point is, ma'am (I am addressing you directly now, pagan turtleneck lady), it's OK to be a skeptic and install new carpeting.  It is not OK to allow this kind of idiotic advertising to continue.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-355779681125154477?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/355779681125154477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=355779681125154477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/355779681125154477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/355779681125154477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/05/having-doubts-about-carpet.html' title='Having doubts about carpet?'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-1806927403784685633</id><published>2008-04-28T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T14:20:35.619-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eagles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='liberals'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='conservatives'/><title type='text'>Four reasons you shouldn't date a liberal...</title><content type='html'>...according to some very accepting self-proclaimed "conservative" women.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;1)Liberals are arrogant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;-According to Skye (who is apparently getting back at her hippie parents for giving her &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;such an easily mocked name), liberal guys have "a sense of smug arrogance."  She &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;continues, gracefully and respectfully, "There are times when I have dated liberals and &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;there is an arrogance that pervades every facet of their personality.  It's not just a &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;political thing with them; it's a lifestyle."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;2)Liberals are whiny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;-Kit Lange, who also writes for gatheringofeagles.org (no, it isn't a Stephen Colbert &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;parody) says that liberals are "very selfish and want you to baby them."  She then goes &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;on to give her description of a guy that she recently went on a date with, who she could &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;automatically tell was, dun dun dun, a liberal: "His nails were longer than mine, they &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;were manicured, he had a ponytail, and immediately started talking about how I &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;shouldn't smoke because it was bad for the environment."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Note to Kit: You seem to have confused the world "liberal" with the word &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;"douchebag."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;3)They treat women as equals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;-Dicks.  Conservative woman on the prowl, L.A. Holmes, says, "Liberal men, by and &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;large, seem to have forgotten what chivalry is. I don't know if that is a consequence of &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;how they were brought up, the women's lib movement, and all that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Note to L.A.: Yes, the women's lib movement and "all that."  Sorry you can't sit down &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;on the train when your feet hurt because some liberal guy is in your seat, but you &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;might want to thank the women's lib movement for, you know, giving you the &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;opportunity to hold your job at the assignment desk at Fox News Channel.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;4)Clintonian socialist entitlement (i.e. "Let's split the check.")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;-And I saved the best for last.  Moxie, a professional photographer and freelance &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;douchebag, has quite a bit to say about liberals.  So much so that she is writing a book. &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt; Let's hope her insightful comments into the world of dating liberals is a preview of &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;things to come!  Here are some highlights:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;•"Sure, I used to date liberals.  They were always the ones who had problems with &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;conservative women.  So much for the 'open-minded liberal' myth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;•"Liberals were always happy to suggest we split the check; it must be some &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Clintonian socialist entitlement."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;•"[Liberals] also tend to own clothing displaying their irrational fear of Dick &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Cheney, and/or love of Che Guevara.  They are shaggy haired, greasy hipster types &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;you find loitering in the Apple store."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But even Moxie holds out some hope for those poor, shaggy liberals : "Even now, I'd &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;date a decent liberal.  If a guy really cares, he should have no problem voting &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;McCain/Rove '08.  It will make him feel like a real man."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She added, "Scratching his balls in public would also work."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Full article: http://&lt;a href="http://www.rightwingnews.com/mt331/2008/04/interviewing_six_conservative.php"&gt;www.rightwingnews.com/mt331/2008/04/interviewing_six_conservative.php&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-1806927403784685633?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/1806927403784685633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=1806927403784685633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/1806927403784685633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/1806927403784685633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/04/four-reasons-you-shouldnt-date-liberal.html' title='Four reasons you shouldn&apos;t date a liberal...'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-1629395020095485081</id><published>2008-04-17T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T10:42:46.100-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camel-toe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Urban Outfitters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><title type='text'>Dear Urban Outfitters,</title><content type='html'>Over the years, I have given you my money and undying gratitude for your propensity to carry shirts that actually meet the top of low-rise jeans.  Perhaps this season you are at the mercy of your suppliers, who appear to be punishing you for something.  Or perhaps this is some sort of a joke that you are playing on your consumers.  I can picture your senior buyer, sitting in a room, snickering at the obviously hideous items the stores would soon be featuring.  I guess it is an interesting social experiment: just how ugly do the clothes have to be before people stop buying them?  I hope we have reached our limit.  Examples follow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s7d2.scene7.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/14109011_04_b?$detailmain$"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://s7d2.scene7.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/14109011_04_b?$detailmain$" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even Dexie's Midnight Runners would be offended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s7d2.scene7.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/14461255_11_b?$detailmain$"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://s7d2.scene7.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/14461255_11_b?$detailmain$" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um. What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s7d2.scene7.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/14768014_10_b?$detailmain$"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://s7d2.scene7.com/is/image/UrbanOutfitters/14768014_10_b?$detailmain$" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it's a bad sign when the person getting *paid* to wear the outfit looks apalled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, Urban.  Ha.  Good one.  Can you fire your (obviously inhumane) buyer now and apologize to anyone who purchased high-waisted shorts?  Or maybe you should issue an open apology to the general public, who will have to deal with unprecedented levels of camel-toe all summer because of this stunt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-1629395020095485081?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/1629395020095485081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=1629395020095485081' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/1629395020095485081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/1629395020095485081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/04/dear-urban-outfitters.html' title='Dear Urban Outfitters,'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047818976683948922.post-2707068661149305005</id><published>2008-04-13T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T21:50:52.604-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self-help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='john mayer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quarterlife'/><title type='text'>Crisis of Crisis</title><content type='html'>Now, I blame John Mayer for a lot of things: douchebag undergrads sitting under trees and singing insipid love songs on the first day of Spring; increased media coverage of Jessica Simpson; etc.  But probably the most offensive thing he has done to me is to introduce the term "quarterlife crisis" into my lexicon.  When I was 17 and still young enough to appreciate John Mayer (on a deeper level than everyone else, of course) his song "Why Georgia" was perfect fodder for mid-summer, windows-down, late-night drives.  I used to sing the lyrics, "Might be a quarterlife crisis/or just a stirring in my soul" with a naive smile.  At 17 I thought the idea of a "quarterlife crisis" was a cute little joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I am nearing the age of the "quarterlife," I don't feel the effects of this crisis personally.  I don't believe that I should have my entire life nailed down by the age of 25.  That thought, in fact, depresses me.  But many of my friends seem to believe that they are going through some sort of a crisis that requires the aid of of self-help books.  A recent blog post by one of my friends discussing the theme of an approaching (dun dun dun) 24th birthday resulted in a deluge of comments ranging from "I know exactly what you mean," to "Read this book.  It really helped me through this tough time." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book that was sagely recommended is "Quarterlife Crisis: The Unique Challenges of Life in Your Twenties."  After a short search on Amazon.com, I found about five books with a similar theme: helping 20-somethings get through their 20-something lives.  My problem with these books is they seem to be *creating* a problem rather than *solving* it.  Do you have feelings of uneasiness?  Are you not totally happy with your job? Are you between 24 and 30?  Well you can stop worrying because we have the solution!  You are going through a quarter-life crisis!  And this book will get you through it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the fact that I think all self-help books have minimal to no actual benefit, these books seem especially unnecessary.  The first line of "Quarterlife Crisis" reads as follows: "The quest to define ourselves begins during childhood, but when twentysomethings enter the 'real' world, the process can seem to start all over again."  Wow.  What a progressive idea.  As an adult, you are constantly changing and trying to find your place in the world.  I hope the rest of the book is as insightful.  And it looks like I'm in luck, given the chapter titles: "How Am I Supposed to Figure Out Who I Really Am?" "What if I'm Scared to Stop Being a Kid?" "What If I Fail?" "What Do All of These Doubts Mean?" and my personal favorite, "Can I Carry Any Part of My College Experience into the Real World?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did college become a bump in the road on the way to adulthood?  Last time I checked, college was supposed to provide a few transitional years between high school and adulthood; the purpose of college, in fact, was to *prepare* people for life after college.  Why are we going to college if the skills we learn in it are completely useless?  The answer is: we aren't.  As much as the writers of these books would like us to believe college campuses exist in some sort of vacuum that have no connection to the outside world, it just isn't true.  College is still an institution of preparation where students improve their analytical skills, writing skills, and, outside the classroom, their social skills.  After graduation, these twentysomethings have plenty of options and plenty of opportunity.  I know because I am one of them. And I find this feeling of possibility rather liberating.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what makes people of my generation think that there is something fundamentally wrong with them because they don't feel perfectly settled at the absurdly young age of 25?  Is it the pressure to be monetarily secure and successful at a young age?  Is it the self-help book publishers trying to make money on a previously untapped demographic?  Is it based on a sense of guilt that college was just too much fun?  Or does it boil down to even larger problems, like the inherent pressure of living in a competitive capitalist society?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure these are all viable factors, but someone, somewhere along the line decided that a perfectly normal state of liminality needed to be idenitfied, studied, and remedied.  I'm guessing it was a twentysomething with a little too much time on his hands, and for that reason, I choose to blame John Mayer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5047818976683948922-2707068661149305005?l=mal-apropos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/feeds/2707068661149305005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5047818976683948922&amp;postID=2707068661149305005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/2707068661149305005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5047818976683948922/posts/default/2707068661149305005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mal-apropos.blogspot.com/2008/04/crisis-of-crisis.html' title='Crisis of Crisis'/><author><name>MalApropos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02982683575371848266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
