You're moving too fast for me and, I can't keep up with you. Maybe if you slowed down for me I, could see you're only telling
Lies,
lies, lies.
Breaking us down with your
Lies,
lies,
lies.
When will you learn......
--
I've discovered something recently. I call it The Blagojevich Complex, in honor of that beloved weirdo with the bad haircut, Governor Rod Blagojevich. I'm hopeful that you'll understand why once I explain it to you.
So, here's today's little piece of insight on human beings.
--
I'm fairly positive that every person in America, and probably several million people outside of America, have heard that age-old excuse for children who didn't do their homework.
"The dog ate it!"
Though the years, I've heard some alternate versions of this, as well.
"My little brother flushed it down the toilet!"
"My mom accidentally used it to line my hamster cage!"
"A gang of Lucha Librés came and bullied it away from me!"
...Alright, I confess, I made the last one up. But, let's be honest, some kid somewhere probably tried to use that excuse once. But the relevance of my sources isn't the topic.
What I'm trying to get at is, how many kids do you think have ever actually straight-up confessed to their teacher that they really didn't do their homework? How many times do you think they've actually sucked it up and taken responsibilities for their own actions?
Right. Not many.
But they are just kids, after all. They're only blaming other people to try and stay out of trouble themselves. They're young, and luckily, they still have plenty of time in the future to learn to fess up to the bad things that they've done instead of only laying claim to their successes.
It's when full grown adults are still claiming the dog ate their homework that we're really in trouble.
--
Which brings me back to Blagojevich. Now, if you've spent even the tiniest bit of time following the winding path this man has been taking around the media, you'll at least have a basic outline of the defense he's tried to build for himself. Now, I won't go into details - if you want those, just go look for any of his interviews on YouTube, he says the same things in every one of 'em - but from what I've gathered, his story is, basically, "These people are twisting the facts, these other people forced me into doing such-and-such, and everyone involved but me is guilty." In fact, the only thing he's admitting to is swearing during his phone conversations. Really, Blagojavich? Is that part of the equation so important? I don't think anyone really cares if you threw a few F-bombs around. I think they're more concerned about the fact that it sounds like you tried to sell a senate seat.
But anyway, Mr. Blagojevich. Ever thought of taking at least a little bit of responsibility for those actions? Even if you're not guilty of everything they're accusing you of, it seems to me there's some pretty hard evidence that you've been up to something suspicious.
--
Before anyone starts yelling at me, I'm not saying that this is always the case. That there's always someone shifting the blame to people who don't deserve it. To take words out of Blagojevich's own mouth, "What if your friends rob a store, and say that you were with them when they did it? What do you do when you come home, and your father starts yelling at you because he thinks you helped them shoplift when you really has nothing to do with it?" If you get yourself into a situation like that...Well, first of all, you need better friends. But that's beside the point. Theoretically speaking, you could just say "I didn't do it", and hope that your angry father would believe you. But we all know that there's only about a 98.7% chance of that actually working. In a situation like that, there really isn't any choice except to say "they did it".
But you have to admit that there's a big difference between being wrongly accused of shoplifting and, say...Blaming dairy products for your muffin top.
--
To sum it up before I stop making a shred of sense: My fellow Americans, I believe that this country would be a better place if a few more of us decided to grow a pair and take the rightful blame every once in a while.
Hello again, everyone! I hope you all had a nice Memorial Day weekend.
Well, it would seem that it's time for me to continue with this blog-writing endeavor of mine. My topic today circles around that ever-popular social networking site: Facebook.
I'm a bit of a newbie to Facebook, having just joined in January of this year. For a while I was not very impressed. Sure, it's a nice way to stay in touch with your friends and such, but it seemed rather boring, with not much else to do.
...And then I discovered Flair.
Flair is, without a doubt, a wicked mechanism designed specifically to make me spend hours upon hours staring at my computer screen, browsing seemingly endless pages of these tiny circular accessories, and then continue to spend even more time meticulously arranging them on my board - which is far too small, by the way - therefore never getting anything productive, (like drawing, writing, or actually taking care of my household chores,) finished.
(Below is a screenshot I took showing the current flair on my board. Although I'm sure by tomorrow it will already be inaccurate, as I will have changed things around, swapped old out for new, etc....)
To be honest, I'm not really sure what it is I find so appealing about it. After all, it isn't really anything special, and yet I still spend some of my time glancing over it every day. My best guess would be that I love the freedom it gives you to express things that you like. Everything from funny sayings to quotes to current fandoms - the latter of which being what I mostly showcase - it truly gives you the ability to show off who you are in a colorful and interesting way.
...Or maybe I just enjoy shiny things. Hard to tell.
Alright, one more quick thing and then I will say adieu for now...
Please excuse me as I continue to drool over this film, but I cannot help myself.
It has taken me some time (read: about two days,) to think of an interesting topic for my first blog post. But today, I think I finally found two things to write about that most people will find satisfactory: Food, and movies. Who doesn't like at least one of those things, right?
Alright, let us begin with food, then, shall we?
One of my family's favorite dinners is baked chicken strips dipped in buttermilk and coated in cornflake crumbs, with a homemade ranch dressing for dipping sauce. (Are you salivating yet?) Moving on...Monday night, armed with an excess of cornflakes, we made such a dish. And it, as always, came out fantastic. (I strongly believe that there is not a soul on this earth who cooks better than my mother. I know, I know, everyone says that, but...you haven't tasted her food.) But, to be honest, this little tidbit about chicken is just a segue into saying what I made this morning, using some of the remaining cornflakes...
I'm not sure exactly what these are called. Usually we refer to them as simply "cornflake bars", while our handwritten recipe calls them "peanut butter squares". Personally, I think a more fitting name would be "Most Freaking Delicious Creation in the Entire Universe", but that's a bit long, so for the sake of the length of this blog post - which I'm sure will be long enough as it is - we'll stick with cornflake bars.
I swear, the person who created these was either a mad genius or an angel fallen from heaven. I could eat these every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of them. And it's plausible, too, seeing how easy they are to make. The sad part is, I don't think very many people know about this recipe fallen from above. So, to spread the word, I'm indulging you all with it! Who needs a car from Oprah when you can just get on your computer and get free recipes, eh?
CORNFLAKE BARS: (Or: Most Freaking Delicious Creation in the Entire Universe)
Ingredients:
1/2 cup (one stick) butter
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup Karo (light)
1/2 cup peanut butter (Read: Choosy moms choose JiF.)
1 teaspoon vanilla
4 cupsKellogg's Cornflakes
Directions:
In a medium to large cooking pot on medium heat, bring sugar, Karo, and butter to a rolling boil. Remove from heat and stir in peanut butter and vanilla until smooth. Add cornflakes, stirring gently until coated with the peanut butter mixture. Scoop into a 9"x9" and let cool. Then all you have to do is enjoy!
******
...Wait, back up. What's that behind the cornflake bars in the above picture?
WHAT.
Kirk, Spock, what are you doing on my cornflakes?!
...When I saw this in the grocery store, I'm sure they could hear my yell of surprise and excitement all the way in Mexico. It was, without a doubt, unexpected.
(Lookit, they're on the side, too!)
...Well, the cornflake box acts as a perfect segue into my second topic: The Cinema! Or, more specifically, one movie in particular: The new Star Trek.
My father had been excited about this movie since the first time he saw a trailer. And to be honest, I was pretty hyped about it as well, especially considering the fact that I've never fully watched an episode of any Star Trek in my life. I have, though, been an avid supporter of the NBC show Heroes since it's first episode - even in its second season, which was, for me, the low point - so I was quite familiar with Zachary Quinto. To see Sylar, the crazy serial killer, playing the serious, logical Spock, was draw enough for me to want to go see this movie. From the trailers, I excpected it to be good, but what I didn't excpect was to love it as much as I did.
This movie, without a doubt, has become an instant favorite of mine. The characters are extremely well-developed and well-played, from Kirk the snarky smart-alec, to Spock the ever-logical one, all the way down to Chekov, with his adorably hardcore Russian accent. (His first introduction in the movie is accented - no pun intended - by his inability to pronounce the letter "V" in a way the Enterprise's computer can comprehend.) I could go on for hours about things like how Quinto acted Spock, and the way that, behind his emotionless façade and his matter-of-fact words, there was so much masked emotion that he was unable to show because of his Vulcan beliefs. About how I was crying within the first ten minutes, and laughing five minutes after that. About the odd phenomenon seen throuought the movie of these strangely-shaped, futiristic, alien camera-flares, which pop up out of nowhere yet seem to fit perfectly into the feel of the movie...But I don't want to bore you, so I'll merely say this; this wasn't just a movie. It was an experience. And one that will most likely not repeat itself soon. I highly, highly reccomend it.
...And on that note, I will depart, as it would seem this has gotten much too long. If you read all of this, I do hope you've enjoyed it. Until next time...
