WAR! Good God, Y'all!

What is it good for?  ABSO-FREAKING-LOUTELY NOTHING! I'm being serious.

I read a particularly upsetting article in Rolling Stone this morning about a particular "kill group" that exists in the military during our war in the Middle East.  You can find the article  > here.

Anyway, the article provides a very graphic description of members of this group killing an unarmed civilian in Afghanistan.  A boy of 15, working in his field.  They treated this unarmed boy, now deceased, like a trophy kill.  You know, like when they were boys with their dad hunting deer.  Grabbed the poor boy by his hair, held his head up and snapped souvenir photographs.

OMFG.  Are you serious!?!  He was minding his business.  Did everything you asked.  WAS UNARMED.

You took him away from his existence.  You snuffed him out.  YOU ALL HAVE BECOME KILLERS AND IT IS ALL ARMY'S FAULT!

With all due respect of our great military that keeps us safe, I beg your pardon.  I know that we live a pretty sheltered existence here in America, and we are afforded this privilege because we have such a strong military.  I am proud of our military.  I am proud when our soldiers do good work.  Not when they treat innocent citizens no better than a buck they would have shot during deer season.

*DING*

I had an epiphany.  Do you guys have family in the military?  I'm sure you all do.  Give them a hug for me, by the way.  Anyway, there is a reason that these soldiers behaved in this manner.  ARMY changes you.  It does, and sometimes not for the better.  ARMY (or any military) has to get into your brain and train you to be a killing machine.  They can't have that sweet little boy that is still afraid of the dark out there on the battlefield.  I get it.  But when you push someone so far, you force people to exist in such a culture that it is ok to kill innocent civilians, you are doing more harm than good.

Have you ever wondered why your dad or grandfather wouldn't ever talk about their days in the war?  Probably because they would much rather forget the horrible things that went on during their time fighting for our country.  God bless them.  Seriously, we wouldn't have the privileges afforded us today without those who fought and continue to fight for our freedom.

But since the world view of America has become one of stupidity, coldheartedness and loud, boomy destruction paired with laziness, it makes me question our future as a world power.  Stop the killing.  Stop the bombing.  Stop running in to save everyone else's problems and fix the problems on your own soil.

And hug your military loved ones a little extra hard, because they have to put up with a lot of crap that I'm sure they never thought in their life they would.  And all at a ripe old age of 22.

Have a great week, y'all.  And remember.


War is Bad.

xoxo

I Wanna Walk Like You, Talk Like You

Posing With Friends - Photo bombing tourists rocks

So I just found this hilarious site you guys should check out for a giggle.  It's called Posing With Friends and the concept is basically photo bombing tourist shots by copying exactly whatever pose they may be taking and having a friend take your picture, hopefully without the other peoples' knowledge.  Very funny for a giggle.

It reminds me of a time in college when I had gone out dancing with my then boyfriend, his friend and a couple of my girlfriends. We were at this silly club, dancing and shimmying.  There was this one particular dude that was dancing his heart out, but he was dancing all techno-like.  You know what I mean, kind of a mix between hip hop and club dancing where he wishes he was at a rave and had glow sticks in his hands when he would twist his wrists while he was dancing.  This type of dancing, while I can respect it's origins, kind of annoys me when in a club.  I don't know why, I think it's the ballet snob in me.  I don't consider it true dancing, even though I know it is.  I'm a snob sometimes, I get it.

Anyway, so this guys dancing his super-techno dancy dance, and he had kept on entering my dance bubble.  For those of you who don't know, a dance bubble is the area around yourself in which no other person should enter.  That sounds naughty.  I mean that you as a person, when dancing in a club solo or in dance class, are allotted a good 2 feet bubble around your dancing person, 1 foot for friends in a club, so that no major injuries occur in the flailing of limbs.  I like safety because it hurts to whack fingers together unexpectedly.  Mr. Techno kept entering my dance bubble and I was tired of it.  I went behind him and started copying the exact dance moves he was doing.  I made sure I was completely behind him so he couldn't see and danced like him for a good half a song before he noticed.  Then he noticed, and I promptly stopped, smiled, turned on my heel and went to the ladies room and had a good giggle.  Like I said before, I'm a snob sometimes.

So, dance-bomb or photo-bomb all you want.  But be ready for a confrontation if you find a feisty one.  I was lucky that time....

Happy Wednesday!
xoxo

HAPPY FREAKING TUESDAY TO YOU, TOO

So, Kevin gets home this morning from working his gawd-awful graveyard shift when he says a very bad word upon entering the apartment.  He informs me some piece of crap individual who has no respect for other people's property, even when it is clearly locked up, has stolen my beautiful, $100 bicycle.

BITCHES!!!!!!


Ugh.  I love this city, but people are crap sometimes.  Seriously, crap.  I don't take your stuff.  In fact, if you dropped something, say, $100 bill, I would chase you down to make sure you got your money back.

You, on the other hand, would take that $100 and go spend it on crack cocaine.  I would like to think you would take the "found" money and spend it on groceries for your family, but I'm having less and less faith in the human race these days. 

Instead, you stole by bike.  It's a normal bike.  You can buy it at WalMart.  And there are thousands like it in the city, so I'm not going to file a police report.  It won't do any good. :(

Alas, I'm not going to let this get me down.  Take my bicycle.  I don't care.  You suck.  Karma will get you.  And if you really needed that bicycle, I mean REALLY needed it, you could have rang the door bell, given me your story and I probably would have given you my bike.

I hope you guys have a better Tuesday than I have so far.  I want to go back to bed.

xoxo

Upbeat VS Downbeat

 

For those who aren't in the know of reading music, here's a little lesson.  So music, when written, is divided into measures.  These measures are typically written in time signatures, that is, how many beats are in a measure.  You have 4/4, which most music uses, 3/4 which is typically a waltz beat, 2/4 is a march, 6/8 is crazy hippie dancing (J/K!).  Anyway, you get the idea.  4/4 means you count the music 1, 2, 3, 4.

But, when you are listening to music, really enjoying it, when do you clap/tap your toes/wiggle your jiggle?  On the downbeat or the upbeat?  On the 1 and the 3 or the 2 and the 4?

Go ahead.  Try it.  Find yourself a piece of music that you enjoy and see what your natural tendency is for your rhythm.  I have a theory that people can be divided into two types, the upbeats and the downbeats.

I've tested the theory in our home: I'm an upbeat and Kev is a downbeat.  (That explains so much!)  Seriously, tested, re-tested, and tested again.  So, let me know your results!  I'll create a graph or something if you actually let me know your results!

xoxo

I HATE SMILES!!!!

Thanks, Jules!  I had a super giggle this morning because of you!  If you have 6 minutes, watch this!  It's hilarious!
xoxo

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, y'all!  I hope you all enjoy a pint of nice (GREEN) beer and eat some corned beef and cabbage.  (What is "corned" beef, anyway?)

It's so much fun here in New Orleans during St. Patrick's Day.  The weekend before the actual holiday, there is a giant parade held in the Irish Channel.  They throw beads and other silly plastic catches like during Mardi Gras, but they also throw cabbages so you can go home and cook!  Well, they don't actually throw the cabbages, they more hand them to you, but you get the idea.

I was squeezed in inappropriate places by men in kilts - I let them get away with it simply because they were bagpipe players.  What a fun time with friends! 

So, enjoy the day.  Don't forget to wear green, watch out for flying cabbages, and beware the pipers. You just never know what those crazy Irish will do...

xoxo