I Hate All of You

Thanks for coming into speak with me today. You look hot.

Thanks! I’m on Atkins. You look lovely too.

What did you eat today?

Oh well, I had coffee this morning, sushi for lunch, and Jimmy John’s for dinner. Also bacon.

What else did you do today, you beautiful creature?

I worked out and accidentally tripped whilst running on the treadmill.

Are you usually this clumsy?

Only on treadmills.

So what did you wear today?

The same thing I wore yesterday: nothing.

(Shifts around uncomfortably in seat) Really?

No. I wore a black hooded jacket and shorts in 75 degree weather. People stared at me funny.

What’s your favorite alcoholic beverage?

White Russians. The Big Lebowski inspired me, dude.

So is that what drink you want everyone to buy you on your birthday?

Why yes, you read my mind, thank you.

What are you studying in college?

Hospitality Tourism Management. Once again, I served breakfast sausages for credit.

What are you going to with that?

Be a pirate.

Last question: DOG/KEYBOARD/PEANUT BUTTER/CLOUDS/BALLS/CEILING FAN/MILK/PENNIES/CLAMS?

YES. Those are all my favorite Pokémon!

Thank you for letting me randomly bombard you with questions. Does this make you feel uncomfortable?

Nah, it’s cool, lol.

Are you really laughing when you type ‘LOL’?

Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t…it’s out of pure habit to just type lol at the end of everything.

Do you beat your wife? Yes or no question.

Uh…I’m not married and I would never.

What’s your favorite color and WHY?

I’ve always liked the color red, it’s the color of my car and pretty much my whole room.

Are you a communist  too?

Haha, no I’m not a communist, Rochelle.

Are you sure?

Yep, 100%.

Communism deprives no man of the ability to appropriate the fruits of his labour. The only thing it deprives him of is the ability to enslave others by means of such appropriations.

Uh…what? Where are you getting this lol

Nevermind. Rolling Stones or Beatles?

Why is this such a popular question? Haha, I’ll definitely have to say Beatles though, I grew up listening to them mostly.

I’m very much enjoying this interview. 

Thanks, even though these are some weird questions.

Don’t be mean. I’m going through a sensitive time in my life.

I was kidding…

What do you do nowadays?

Right now I’m living in Pheonix with my family. I’m working two jobs at the moment to keep myself busy. But yeah, other than that, I like to make my own music.

Are you in a band?

Haha, I wish. I used to want to start one with a couple friends so many times, but it never works out the way you want it to. It’s hard to get people to play the same “style” as you, I guess.

I have that same problem all the time.

LOL, I’m sure you do. Didn’t you play the piano or something?

Don’t try to turn this interview around, Jack! What are you trying to do?

AAAAAAAAAAAH! SORRY!!!

Apology accepted. Last question for the night, and then I’ll let you go back to producing records: How many gas stations would you say there are in the United States?

Oh God, that’s so fucking random but …uh yeah probably like a couple hundred thousand? 

What is your name?

Full name? Timothy David Phillips II

The Second? That sounds fancy. Are you royalty?

Not at all.

Why not?

Because half of my ancestors worked in cotton fields, a little less than the other half were chasing buffalo/killed by European plagues, and the remaining 10% or so fought in the Luftwaffe. I don’t think any of those groups qualify for the aristocracy.

Tragic. What’s your favorite color?

Red

Are you a communist, Timothy David Phillips II?

Not that I am immediately aware of.

So you’re a student at Edinboro? Tell me how that is.

Edinboro blows. It’s too cold and I almost fell into the lake. I left there and now take classes at Pitt.

So you’re a student at Pitt? Tell me how that is.

Not too difficult. Some online classes. Sometimes commuting sucks because some of my credits didn’t transfer and I have to go all the way to Boyce to pick up some of the slack (it’s cheaper than taking ALL of them at Pitt).

Do you have any interesting hobbies, Czar Phillips II?

I like writing, boxing, history, studying nutrition, and imperialistic subjugation of people and territories against their will.

You said studying?

Yes. I got into working out while in college and I became interested in the biochemical nature of human nutrition and how it, or lack thereof, affects the human body and mind, especially in matters of sports and fitness.

What are your plans for after college?

I want to go to grad school at Pitt, but I also want to travel around as well. I’ve bartered my time well up until now so I might take a bit of time off upon immediately graduating to see what happens.

Impressive. What would I find in your refrigerator right now?

Milk, eggs, cheese, microwavable pizzas, blue cheese dressing, flour, and probably bacon.It sounds bare but I don’t like to eat junk food and I don’t like sweets. I eat a lot, though!

Then I should probably not have brought this celebratory end of the interview cake.

No, you have done a bad thing, as I will not eat it. Give it to someone else to contribute to America’s obesity epidemic.

Don’t be mean. I’m at a sensitive time in my life.

I apologize. I like to accommodate for people’s sensitivities, especially pretty interviewers, unlike the rather portly man I had to suffer at the gym today. I amend my previous statement and instead request you relinquish the cake to orphans.

Apology accepted. What’s the last book you read?

White Sisters. I got it from the library in an effort to read at least one book a month. It’s one in a detective series about a cop trying to get to the bottom of a crime ring in the music industry. ALLOW ME TO AMEND MY PREVIOUS STATEMENT. It was called ‘White Sister’. It’s an allegory towards one of the characters.

…Do you consider yourself a racist?

No, I…love races.

Ok, last interview question because I’d rather play XBox then this shit. If you were written about in the newspaper, on the front page, what would the headline say?

EMPEROR TIM COMES TO POWER. POSTMARK ALL OFFERINGS TO THE GIANT CITADEL IN THE SKY.

It’s been a while since I’ve updated. Why? Because I was busy fighting of the world’s cancer. With the little strength I have left, I write this entry.

Today’s post is going to be a little special. Instead of discussing one subject, I am going to describe a variety of topics—you may know what I’m talking about, you may not. You may be able to relate, or you may get slightly offended. Either way,fuck you.

If you made my shit list, you are some type of cancer.

1. People who can’t drive at Wal-Mart.

Think about it. Wal-Mart attracts broke teenagers, inbreds, and the elderly. Those happen to be the perfect demographics for PEOPLE WHO CANNOT FUCKING BACK OUT OF A PARKING SPOT WORTH A SHIT.

2. Useless Facebook Status Updates

“… is making a pasta alfredo tonight!”

“[Shitty song lyrics that seemingly describe you suicidal tendencies]”

“INCEPTION WAS SO GOOD SEE IT OMGGEAGIEHAEGGEHAGEG”

“Anyone wanna gimme a ride to ____?”

“Am sadooooo fckung druuunk! Grrrllls nite!!!”

“Hey guys, check out my new vid! I just made it so if you can comment on it, that would be great! Thnx! ;)”

“SPORTS UPDATE THAT I WANT PEOPLE TO COMMENT ON SO I CAN FURTHER ILLUSTRATE MY OPINION ON SAID SPORTS TEAM/PLAYER.”

“POLITICAL UPDATE THAT I WANT PEOPLE TO COMMENT ON SO I CAN FURTHER ILLUSTRATE MY OPINION ON SAID PARTY/ISSUE.”

“POP CULTURE UPDATE THAT I WANT PEOPLE TO COMMENT ON SO I CAN FURTHER ILLUSTRATE MY OPINION ON LADY GAGA’S PENIS.”

“I hate cats.”

3. Single people who brag about being single.

Nobody cares that you’re single. In fact, you make hanging out with couples awkward. Always the third wheel. Always spending weekends by yourself while updating your Match.com or Craigslist profile. You’re lonely and have a lot of cats. And maybe a disposable camera collection in your closet. 

Hey, at least you’re single. 

4. Twilight

This is society’s longest running joke since Rob Schneider’s The Hot Chick.

5. People who have acoustic guitars and insist on playing chords

People who have acoustic guitars and insist on playing chords make me uncomfortable. Very awkward. Not only do they butcher the words to my favorite songs, their toenails are also yellow.

Why do they always wear sandals?

6. People with ugly dogs

I mean, seriously. 

7. People who have embarrassing DVD collections

This one is an absolute tumor. I’ve met people with collections comprised of all Disney movies or all musicals or all seasons of LOST (see Single people who brag about being single above). 

Every time someone suggests a funny movie to watch they always pick the most unfunny movie (Happy Gilmore). Adam Sandler yelling at golf balls/children/the elderly isn’t funny. In fact, he is one of the most unfunny Jewish persons I’ve ever seen.

Next to Rob Schneider.

8. Male Denim shorts

I GOT THESE ON SALE AT THE GOODWILL/FARMER’S MARKET.

9. People with questionable senses of humor.

If you’ve ever laughed at:

• Jeff Dunham
• Larry the Cable Guy
• Jeff Foxworthy
• Dane Cook
• David Spade

…we have absolutely nothing in common.

10. People who INSIST on plain cheese pizza.

What a waste of Delivery Guy effort. You just ordered a cheese pizza?

Next time you go to the mall, get a cinnamon roll without the icing. Then stop by the grocery store to pick up sugar cookies and odorless laundry detergent and scent-free deodorant. When you get home make your chicken soup without noodles or vegetables. Just sit there with your shame and fucking disgrace. 

And people wonder why you’re so weird. 

Every week I have to write a 500 word essay on some fucking passage we read in a textbook the size of Billy Krystal’s forehead. This is what I get for taking a summer Philosophy of Ethics class. 

500 words?! THAT’S LIKE TWO PAGES!

Yeah, I know you fuck. But try typing two pages worth of bullshit you gathered from an 18th century douche’s opinion. Plus it doesn’t help that the questions we have to answer are structured poorly on top of being vague as shit. I hate this class. So instead of working on my paper that currently has only 352 words, I’m going to sit here and think of how I can fill the other 148 words:

• Talk about how Kant was molested as a child
• Make a funny pun using Kant’s name
• Cut and paste an excerpt from Wikipedia 
• Convince my teacher my paper is worth reading
• Moon Conspiracies
• My opinion on the film, “The Big Lebowski”
• Use more points of ellipsis as filler
• 148 ways to use my Philosophy book as a door step!
• Include a picture of a hamster eating a wedge of cheese
• Give props to Led Zeppelin for the song Heartbreaker
• Subliminally propose a solution to global warming
• Include a picture of a snake eating a hamster
• An amateur sketch of a leprechaun 
• Type 148 variations of the word “snow” in Eskimo
• Note how this blog entry has at least 500 words if not more

Hey you animals. The following post is special because in it:

1. I get personal

2. I don’t cuss

3. It’s more than 3 paragraphs long.

This is actually a writing assignment for my Multicultural Societies class so I don’t want to hear shit about it “not being funny” or how it “made you cry into the long hours of the night”. This paper is personal and I enjoyed writing it so shut the fuck up and open your minds. And I mean that in the most loving way.

HERE IT IS:

              After reading Lester’s article, “Now what do I say?” I realize the power and meaning of the words we habitually choose to use and the impacts they eventually leave. Lester said it perfectly in his article when he states “Usually words slide in without our ever noticing, and before you know it, we’ve constructed a universe.”  Many times, we will use a term so frequently, we might forget that it can be politically incorrect or even worse—just plain offensive. Words like “handicap” and “rule of thumb” have unpleasant and insulting origins and we still choose to use them without batting an eyelash. Referring to the whole of humanity as “mankind” is universally understood but using “womankind” will sprout irritated viewpoints from Feminist. Everything has been labeled regardless of how people have felt about it.  But what happens when you, as an individual, are labeled as well? It seems that in my experience as being born a “multicultural” female, I get thrown into a vague, indefinite pool of labels.

                My mother is a full blooded Filipina from Manila, Philippines. My father was born in Philadelphia and is half Italian, half black. I was born in the Philippines but I grew up in America. What does that make me?

                The US Census likes to classify it as “Other”.

                What was other supposed to really mean? Understandably, they wouldn’t have a space for someone who was considered “Black, Italian, and Filipino” — but the thoughtless implication of the word ‘other’ was almost insulting and even distasteful. To me, ‘other’ meant ‘unclassifiable’. I was being left out in something I felt was the grander, more distinguished society. I wasn’t just African-American and I never really saw myself as just a Pacific Islander. Ever since I can remember filling out personal information surveys whether it was on the SAT’s or medical forms, I always found myself injudiciously in the ‘other’ category, feeling as if I was a fragment of American demographics.

                I’ve been called mixed. Diverse. Multicultural. Ethnic. Light skinned black girl. Nobody knew what I was until they asked. “I’m black, Italian, and Filipino,” I would tell them. Some people found it interesting; others found it almost perplexing and strange.

                The real distressing thing about all these labels is that I was none of those things. Being mixed sounded to me like my parent’s DNA was haphazardly spewed in a genetic blender and out came me. Diverse and multicultural were labels that unassuming people used because they didn’t know what I was. Clearly I wasn’t all black, but what was the other missing race to them? It was as if I was a walking math problem everyone had a chance to figure out. And ethnic is a term so formless and unclear that I think society has drowned the term into meaning another word for Black. Wal-Mart has an aisle in the cosmetology section dubbed ‘Ethnic Hair Care’ because if your hair isn’t straight, it’s curly and different, therefore it deserves its own section so not to confuse anyone. Don’t even get me started on how horribly inaccurate light skinned black girl is.

                But in spite of all these mislabels and innocent offenses, I remain the ‘multicultural other’ that an unpretentious society can only understand on the surface. Twenty two years ago, my parents fell in love with each other and had me—they were from different countries and backgrounds, sure. But there’s nothing unusual or “other” about me or my parents. They file their taxes and enjoy All-You-Can-Eat Buffets as much as the next person does so why are their respective racial circumstances something to consider or even label?  

                Nobody may know what I am in terms of demographic categories but I certainly know what I am— which I suppose was all that really mattered in the first place. To the US Census, I can only fill in ‘other’ for the sake of statistical information; a quick answer to an indefinite question. But to me, I am beyond those things, much more than an ambiguous combination of races. My mother speaks to me in Tagalog, her native language that I can only understand and interpret, but not speak back. She teaches me songs and traditions that are exclusive to the Filipino culture while she cooks us Pancit and Lumpia most weekends. On the other side, my father talks of my grandfather’s upbringing in Italy and how our last name was changed from “Perelly” to “Perry” when his great grandfather came to America so he could ‘fit in’. He also owes a lot to his rich black heritage on his mother’s side whenever he recalls recipes for making good barbecue ribs, spiced collard greens with ham hocks and fluffy cornbread. So you can probably see why it’s not easy for me to just pick one category of “Black/African American” and “Native or Pacific Islander”. I am Rochelle Perry and I have a Black-Italian father and a Filipino mother that raised me in America. I want to be recognized as all these things.     

                Black, Italian, and Filipino.

Listen, I know I haven’t updated this blog in centuries, but that’s ok because last time I checked, I DON’T OWE SHIT TO YOU.

I started summer classes on Monday. I say ‘summer classes’ because whenever I tell people I’m in ‘summer school,’ shit gets weird. “OH YOU MUST HAVE FAILED A CLASS” or “MAN, WHAT AN IGNORANT SLUT.” See the difference? Summer classes vs.  Summer school. I’ve never failed anything in my life.

EXCEPT BEING A LOSER. I FAIL AT BEING A LOSER ALL THE TIME BECAUSE I AM SO COOL. SHIT YEAH, MOTHERFUCKERS. HEY FUCK YOU.

But I think the real reason I haven’t been up to the daunting task of updating my blog is because, well, it’s so time consuming.

Granted, I ALWAYS have amazing ideas running in my head on what my next post should be about. Always. I will be in class and someone will say or do something buttfuck retarded, and in my mind, I will be like, “Hey. I’m going to bash the shit out of that person’s dumb comment/action/hairstyle/lifestyle/odor in my next blog.” Sounds easy, right?

No. No, it’s not fucking easy, you daft punk. If it was easy, I’d have like 200 posts. Maybe even 2,000. Shit I don’t even know.

I was actually thinking of carrying around a notebook to write all my amazing comments and thoughts in too. But you know that would make me look like? A fucking sham.

So instead—like all great bloggers have experienced before—they let their great ideas die inside of them. I mentioned this in my last post because I cannot stress the frustration of having thought of something absolutely genius and then letting it go past you because the thought of typing them out on a computer sends you into a debilitating shock. It’s equivalent to having a stroke or seizure except instead of actually having a stroke or seizure, you’re bascially just staring blankly at a computer screen. Not a fun feeling at all. But hey.

In conclusion, a Havana Omlette is when someone takes a shit that has corn and red pepper remnants still inside it.