I haven’t done one of these “Randomness” pieces in a while…
This is my NHL playoff bracket, as of today. It’s been busted. I know there’s one more round to be finished in the west, but, at this point, I don’t really care. Not to where I’m not going to watch the playoffs anymore, but the bracket thing. I think for next season, I’ll choose the two playoff teams I truly hate to make the Cup Finals.
I think I’ll let the hockey talking heads have their say on the Penguins’ current state. It’s all nonsensical, anyway, just like what became of them in those last three games of the semi-finals. If anything, I’m more bitter to them than the Rangers right now. (Though it is tough to hate my two boys Crosby and Malkin. Cute boy bias.) I guess I’ll just let their tire fire burn and check back on them when I think the fire has burned out. If I happen to see a new coach in the wake of the rubble (as what some are now speculating), oh well. Which is a little sad because I always thought coach Bylsma was a good man in general, and that his personality worked well with the team. I’d be upset if I found out he phoned it in in that Game 7, as I thought he wasn’t the person to do such a thing. But how would I know; I (and many Pens fans, I’m sure) don’t know what goes on in that locker room. Guess I’m back to watching baseball now. And Maury shows. Me needs my trashy talk show TV.
Wanna hear a joke? OK. The Met Gala. That high-falutin’ fashion event that happens every early May, where a bunch of rich people parade in gowns female attendees starved their ass for weeks to fit into, all to supposedly benefit the Costume Institute of New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. Sounds innocent, so why it is a joke? Apparently, America’s favorite famous-for-nothing and her pimp husband who both shall not be named here attended the event. A party of “A-listers”, some people say? Bullshit! Not when you got one of the most despised beings on this planet there, who is not only far from the A-list, but has no talent whatsoever (unless you count “gold-digging”) to even make it to the A-list. You can thank the chairperson of this event for inviting these nobodies in the first place…who also happens to be the editor-in-chief of the once-prestigious fashion magazine whose reputation has since been sullied (yep, you guessed it), Vogue magazine. Oh, Anna Wintour…there was once a time when you did not want to invite famous-for-nothing setbacks to society to this once-esteemed event, much less put them on your magazine cover. How about going back to those good old days? Oh, but it’s too late now. Much like a crater-sized tear on the silk pouf of a Givenchy ball gown, the reputations of your career, your magazine, and your Gala is now tough to repair.
You may be asking: why you so harsh, Miss Dee? Why do you even bother? Look, I don’t most of the time. Why the hell would I bother obsessing with idiots and idiot things? But thanks to the unrelenting media, the moment when I, for instance, come across the names of certain people when I least expect it, I get annoyed and bitch about. Like on Mothers Day earlier this week, I clicked on the Google Doodle in honor of the holiday to see what I’d get. Stuff on Mothers Day…and then I saw this headline of, ahem, person-who-shall-not-be-named-here in actual bold, up top the page, and what they were doing for the holiday. Who the fuck is searching for these idiots to where every single bit of them is almost always on top of the first page, of a search I made that’s not related to them whatsoever? I didn’t even type their damn name in the box, nor would I ever, and I still get them in my results?!?! It’s like every day that passes, the dumb becomes more popular and–I think I’m gonna gag here–acceptable. Call me getting older and grumpier by the day, but if some idiots did not begat idiots and idiot things in the first place, I would not be as bitter on my view of society today as I happen to be.
Here’s another joke for you: highway 37. That one-lane stretch along the marshlands between the 121 and 29 makes it so. And, of course, it’s the part that just had to be closed every night by Caltrans this week. They close it at 9PM, which is too early to shut that thing down. And I usually leave work at 9PM, so double joke on me, where my commute back home gets an extra 10-15 minutes. On top of this, Caltrans is closing that route not to widen it and add an extra lane, but to re-pave it. That’s good and all…but I want another lane, dammit! I want four lanes in each direction! (Feh, by the time they actually do that, I probably won’t need to drive on the 37 anymore.) But the joke is over for me and my car now; Caltrans ends their thing Friday night, and I don’t have to go back to work until Saturday. So haha to Caltrans!
I may not have the Pens in the playoffs anymore, but I’ll always have this gif.
All the more reasons why cats rule:
My three words of the moment: solipsism, desultory, and…ratchet!
Ah yes, ratchets. You see them almost everywhere: shopping malls, rap music videos, “reality” shows, and, occasionally, on the cover of Cosmopolitan magazine. And thanks to the current hype of ratchet behavior and attire (such as twerking and ripped leggings) in the media, the Almighty Ratchet may not be going away anytime soon. They’re quite hilarious to look at, and I don’t feel disgusted and annoyed by seeing stuff on them as I do with other things. Funny, the youngsters call ’em “ratchets”; my generation calls ’em “hoes” or “whores” or “skanks”. One-syllable terms–we kept it simple and straight-forward, and didn’t refer easy chicks with a term that also refers to a piece of hardware or some character on Transformers. It’s like how the youngsters (you know, the Millenials) call the ecstasy drug “molly.” Whatev.
What I’m LOL-ing at the moment now (besides pics of ratchets): the funny costumes of America’s Test Kitchen host Christopher Kimball:
This cooking show rules, by the way. Best on TV right now. The Food Network doesn’t stand a chance.