Postlets? Postitos? The mini-toast-post

Gandhi was a sad, sad little man. Almost as sad as Winston Churchill, who was often right but so fat that no one ever listened to him.

Guys, despite their many flaws, are way better at keeping secrets than girls, who tend to last all of three seconds when pressured. I could probably try to over-interpret this, but I'm secretly shallow and don't really care.

When I grow up, I know that I am doomed to become a co-tyrant with Jake--we will, of course, send assassins after each other shortly after we take power. Wanda, on the other hand, is doomed to grow up and become a short Japanese pop star.

This post isn't actually about toast. I'm sorry if I've crushed your dreams. I find plain toast too dry anyways. It needs marmalade.

I think cross-dressing might be fun to try one day--it'd be really funny to physically be able to pass for a guy. For this reason, guys who cross-dress make me laugh, but guys who wear tacky makeup bug me, if only because there is no reason for guys to not apply makeup tastefully, and garish makeup is just ugly.

There is also no excuse for Hitler's moustache. It is an awkward looking moustache. Someone who limps (there's no other word for the way he looks) his rolling backpack up stairs is probably going to grow a moustache just like it.

You cannot run and not look stupid. Either you're slow and you look tired and out-of-shape, or you're fast and simply look like one of many animals. Like a turtle. Or a wounded duck.

Short people who feel the need to make up for their short, mole-like appearance by having midget-battles are to be pitied. They should also be given warm pancakes with laxatives in them.

I know I'd laugh. And then probably feel guilty. But I'd laugh first.

Likewise, girls who wear shirts that make their boobs look like water balloons should be sent, skimpy clothes and all, to Finland, land of the power walkers.

I am horrible at staying focused on one thing. Not only am I distracted by my own brain, but I am a total magpie. I love shiny things!

I don't care how goofy the name sounds, Scaramouche has probably THE hottest main character who isn't a total romance-novel hero. End of story.

And if you don't comment, I won't kill you. Instead I'll make sure the ninja security guard who is also a Russian spy EATS YOU ALIVE.

Culture being batshit (a list)

1. I was watching a Youtube video of this Japanese talkshow, wherein a guy whose lung had collapsed apologized to his fellow band members for troubling them. Because his lung collapsed. And all I could think was that following that logic, people with cancer should just write apologies to the world for all that expensive research we've done. I mean, in case it's troubled us. People with lung cancer should just be taken out and shot.



2. My parents have the horrible habit of randomly inviting fourth cousins twice removed over to our house for dinner without telling me. Yesterday, a lady and her husband showed up, and I had no clue who they were. Apparently, I was at their wedding. And left early, because it was a traditional Indian wedding and the ceremony was more than six hours.


3. There is something wrong with the Austrians. Mostly Falco, who thinks that a hot pink paper with his signature on it constitutes a CD cover. One day, I would like to see Falco remake Schnappi, because he'll wear a pink crocodile suit, complete with rainbow croc-fro, and it will be more high than Jake on mint ice cream.


4. There is no race/culture/ethnicity that can ACTUALLY pull off an afro. Black people just fail a little less at it than everyone else. For proof of the hairstyle horror, I point you at the world's only J-fro, on a guy who apparently goes by Hidden Fish. I have no words.



In the end, the only thing I can really conclude from this post is that I hate culture (among other things). I hate having to write about culture in English class, and I firmly believe that culture is on drugs. Austria's on meth, India's on Ecstasy, Japan's hallucinating that it's Africa and I have no idea what it's on.


But Sweden wins. I mean, who else pickles HERRINGS? (After looking this up on Wikipedia, I was terrified to notice that apparently everyone pickles herrings. But Sweden is still crazy.)

Male fashion (doesn't exist)

It was really sad when I felt guilty getting caught laughing about how a testosterone-fueled male in my 9th grade history class flashed his manboobs to his sniggering cohorts across the room.

Even sadder is that it's a true story. So let's get one thing straight--if you, as a male, have boobs, accept that it is a part of puberty and DON'T WEAR WIFEBEATERS. You'd think it'd be simple, obvious. But no--apparently, it's now a fad for guys to advertise the fact that they need bras, on account of all the jiggling going on in PE. It's disgusting.

In a totally shallow way, I feel obliged to admit that if hot guys wander around without their shirts, I'm not going to be screaming and covering my eyes. But the guys at school?

Don't qualify as hot. Don't even qualify as better looking than, say, Christopher Walken. Pasty white thighs and manboobs do not an Abercrombie model make, so don't dress like one, idiots.

And while I'm on the topic of male fashion, I'm just going to throw this out there: sagging sucks. Last I checked, underwear is meant to be covered by outer-wear. As in, you know, PANTS. Kinda defeats the purpose if the pants are halfway down your ass, don't you think? Granted, I'd take boxers over butt-cleavage any day, but I never needed to know that a boy in my advisory wears Calvin Klein boxers.

I know that girls too are guilty of exposure--but at the same time, strapless bras are a pain in the ass, and sometimes tanktop straps slip. If there was a way to guarantee that the bra straps would stay hidden, God knows I'd use it (I cannot speak for the girls who expose scalloped-edge cups in their school photos). HOWEVER.

Belts are easily available. Even easier, of course, is to buy pants that fit. Scandalous. I know that some guys have an issue with finding the right size of jeans--so buy for length and use a belt that works.

I've also heard the argument that boxers slide up--and okay, this may be true. But why do they look like they're around the guy's hips--not his waist? Where do they start at??? And regardless, that doesn't excuse the guys I've seen walking around school with their pants BELOW their asses, tugging them up every few steps because if they didn't, their jeans would simply fall around their ankles. Talk about awkward. It's like you're stuck in that moment when you're changing and you're halfway through getting your jeans on, only then you just randomly decided to leave the house like that because clearly, you're an idiot.

Actually, that'd explain a lot.