Friday, February 23, 2007

I am sick and tired of being sick and tired

My kidneys are fucking me over yet again. I'm off to the hospital in the morning, where I will have to be awake for hours, so of course I can't sleep right now. I can't think of anything intelligent to post, as my brain cloud (am I the only person that liked "Joe Versus The Volcano"?) is well in force. Exhibit # 1: $140 in bank fees because I forgot to log a $9 purchase in to my checkbook. One little mistake that spirals out of control. Normally I balance out our account on-line every other day, but the last few weeks I had let it go, as I have not been feeling well, and had hardly been on the computer at all. $140 fucking dollars. That's all the money we had for necessities and utilities for the next month, so either the baby's well fucked for diapers this month, and our electricity will be shut off as well, or I can suck up what is left of my pride and attempt to sponge something off my parents. I can only hope they have some spare money this month. I cannot believe I managed to make a stupid error like that. We are not rich, and I pinch pennies so hard that they scream. To have to give $140 to the bank gives me an actual, physical pain. I think we'll name this one the Bank of America ulcer.

Needless to say, I have not been feeling very comical, and I'm far too run down to work that hard at keeping up appearances. For whom? For what? I can't keep up doing the rounds of all the bloggers in my links, let alone update my links (Sorry to Kav, and the increasingly hilarious Eddie Waring, and further apologies as I somehow cannot even put a link in to HTML. It may be me and my brain cloud, but let's blame Blogger), and when I'll find time to add new people to my links, God only knows. I haven't even looked at the new Blogger format since the Spouse Sparrow switched me over, and that was months ago. To all the people that I used to comment on on a regular basis: I'm sorry. I'm not a flake, really, it's just that I feel really crappy most of the time. Basically, I'm feeling very sorry for myself, and am miserable company. I'm thinking of tossing in the towel on this whole blogging thing, and I haven't even been doing it that long. My life fucking sucks, and it had better improve soon. I want to beat on something with a hammer. I want to win the Lottery. I want to not be in pain all the time. I want to find out what is actually wrong with me, and get a proper diagnosis, and I want it to not be something horrible and possibly fatal. I want my doctor to not take the next six months dicking me around. I want to not whinge on and on about all these stupid things that bore the tits right off everyone. I want to be me again. I want my life back.

I believe I'll be taking a break for a while. I don't know.

Fat Sparrow

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Sad emo fuckers (not to be confused with sad emu fuckers, which is probably different)

I don't listen to music, and have actively tried to avoid it for a few years now, as most new music sounds like a cat being run over by a lawn mower, while some testosterone-laden, long-haired, idiot guy screams over the "music" as if he is in extreme pain due to hemorrhoids. It is irritating.

I like to have dead quiet in my house whenever possible, which is why I am up in the middle of the night, to play with my blog in secret, and curse others for having better, funnier blogs. I can mutter to myself in peace, with no one to interrupt me.

My very small house is incredibly noisy because of my 3-year-old son, the Nestling Sparrow. It is not only because of his constant jabbering, but also because of the background noise of the TV. He is addicted to watching "Dora the Explorer," and "Go, Diego, Go," the companion show to "Dora." He gets very, very involved; the kind of involvement that you usually only would see with stay-at-home housewives from the 1970's, and their soap operas. He can, and will, tell you in detail everything that has gone on in these shows, repeatedly.

So when I am by myself, I like to have no noise. Unfortunately, it has come to my attention, due to no fault of my own, and certainly not owing to me purposely listening to the radio, that there is a type of music out there called "emo." Now, from what I could gather, this is somewhat similar to a type of music that I listened to in the early '80's, and back then it was called "New Wave."

The major difference between New Wave and emo seems to be that New Wavers really didn't take themselves all that seriously. It was sort of tongue-in-cheek. Sure, they were guys that wore makeup and frilly white shirts, and went to art school in England, which is extremely gay, but you kinda got the feeling that when they were not on stage, they sat around in sweats, and forgot to shave, and scratched their balls. You know, guy stuff.

These sad emo fuckers, on the other hand, wear black clothes, and sometimes makeup, but they take themselves very, very seriously. Sometimes they even cry on stage. As any woman can tell you, this is not good for your makeup. I don't know what they are thinking. What on earth are they crying about? If you don't want to get your shit kicked in, stop trying to be such a pansy, and then you will have nothing to cry about. Fuck's sake, it's not like they even work; getting up onstage and singing about your sad life is not a real job, it's not real work.

I have a hard time believing that anybody would pay money to listen to this whinging, as it is not The Smiths, but apparently it is very popular amongst the teenagers. I do not encourage anything that will make teenagers more mopey, as they already walk around with sour faces, looking extremely miserable, and the girls especially are under the impression that this make them look hot, or like a super model.

Now, you would think that nothing could be any funnier than this, a bunch of fat American girls in black belly-tops and low-rider jeans, with their flabby stomachs hanging out, walking around with an expression on their face that looks like they were sucking lemons, thinking that they look really cool and skinny, like Kate Moss. This is dead funny, high comedy, all of it.

Even funnier is the part where they are totally Hispanic, very dark-skinned, and they put a ton of talcum powder on their face, to look all white and Goth-like. Even funnier, yes, even funnier than that, is when the girls spend all their time mooning over their male classmates, boys who are skinny dying fuckers (as the Spouse Sparrow is fond of calling them), with their hair dyed black, and their slip-on Vans, and the girls cannot tell that these boys are going to grow up to be flaming homos, homos so incredibly flaming that they make Liberace look tame by comparison.

Still more funny is the part where they go to the school counselors, and complain that they are being picked on. Either learn to stand up for yourself, or quit looking like a Tim Burton parody, is what I say. I went around, back when I was in high school in the '80's, looking like Dawn of the Dead meets The Addams Family, but I had quite a mouth on me, and no one picked on me more than once.

It is no use bringing guns to school, and shooting people that make fun of you, as no one will appreciate it, but if you can humiliate someone in front of a crowd of people, just by what is coming out of your sarky mouth, you will win friends and influence people, I am happy to tell you.

So, you sad emo fuckers, suck it up, and don't go in to therapy, you self-indulgent twats, as more talking about yourselves is the last thing you need. Go out and volunteer at an old people's home, so that you can get your mind off of your favorite subject, which is yourselves. Make fun of the geezers when they piss themselves, and that ought to cheer you up.

Fat Sparrow