I Didn’t Think People Could Be Lazier

It’s a 2-post day. That’s like a 3-alarm fire, only less hot. Or a 5-dog night…only less…fuzzy.

I was just informed that TiVo has added Domino’s Pizza delivery to its list of offerings.

Where do I even begin?

I will start with this. Part of me got really excited when I read this. You know which part? The obese, lazy part (which I keep well hidden using an elaborate system of girdles and a rigorous social schedule).

And I will continue with this. Domino’s? Really? Not only is it the worst pizza in existence (I feel like one Evan Solomon is going to give me hell for making that point), but also the company is run by that whack-job Tom Monaghan. Perhaps you remember him from his antics a few years ago to fulfill his lifelong dream to create a town compromised entirely of orthodox Catholics — you know, the kind of wholesome, salt of the earth place where pharmacies ban contraception and little boys are encouraged to grow up and join the priesthood.

So I feel the need to Meccanize two things here:
1) The enormous (literally and figuratively) part of the population that is excited about this announcement, for whom picking up the telephone is too much effort.
2) TiVo, for encouraging this laziness and for inflicting the world with a double-lame: bad pizza and indirectly supporting radical religious ideals.

Almost as disgusted right now as I was last night watching Bear Grylls rip apart a sea cucumber with his teeth… or this morning when I found out his son’s name is Marmaduke.

Written by lindsay in: Opinion | Tags: ,


You know what really grinds my gears? This.

I know the Internet revolution has blurred the lines between reality and virtual reality, but really?

A woman caught her husband’s avatar having sex with a virtual prostitute in Second Life and she divorced him. Of course, this is after they got married in a Second Life ceremony that was a far bigger deal than their real wedding. She even hired an online private detective to follow him around. “He never did anything in real life, but I had my suspicions about what he was doing in Second Life.”

I expected the accused to set this crazy lady straight, offering at least a “Woman, what I do online is my own business.” But no, instead, he jumps right onto the ridiculous bandwagon: “We weren’t even having cyber sex or anything like that, we were just chatting and hanging out together.”

And sure, I know that emotional cheating can be as real as actual cheating, but this isn’t even emotional cheating — this woman is pissed because she feels like her husband really cheated on her. To these people, Second Life is so real that what happens in directly correlates to what happens in real life.

And you know what, I’ll dive into the crazy for a sec — they aren’t even actually divorced yet and she already is involved in a new relationship with a man she met playing World of Warcraft. Talk about

People who can’t separate the reality from virtual reality, you are Meccanized.


Why Does Michael Bay Get to Keep on Making Movies?

And yet another thing that really grinds my gears: Michael Bay.

I was at the movies last night, taking in Saw V (go ahead…judge), and I saw something infinitely more disturbing than the image of a man getting torn in half by a pendulum with “inferior blades”: a preview for next Michael Bay film. And what kills me the most is that, based on the trailer, I actually want to see it.

This is why I hate Michael Bay — his ideas are great, and they are usually enough to suck in unsuspecting (or, in my case, suspecting but always gullible) viewer. The problem is his execution. Imagine you have in front of you a really delicious filet mignon — tender, juicy, delicious. Now, imagine taking that filet, burning it beyond recognition, and covering it in mayo (and cilantro). Then smear your shoe on it a few times, beat it with a rusty bat, and lay it in the street and let a garbage truck roll over it a few times. Then go and pick it up from the pavement. What used to be a filet that would have made a damn fine meal now is something so gross and deformed you wouldn’t even give it to the homeless man who sleeps outside your building (or pees on your building, as the case may be). This is what Michael Bay does to a good idea.

Take “The Island” for example. What was an interesting bio-ethical dilemma became a loud, totally incongruous, totally unoriginal 2 hours that were saved only by the fact that my friend had a credit on the movie suisse viagra.

And Pearl Harbor? Well, I won’t get into the details, but I had to choke back vomit several times, as did several WWII vets who actually left the theater in disgust. I was happy beyond words when I heard “The End of an Act” in “Team America: World Police.”

(And sure, point out my hypocrisy — I love “The Rock” and “Bad Boys.” But I would argue that those are the types of movies Michael Bay should be tackling — ones where plot holes make absolutely zero difference, where explosions every 20 seconds are ok, and where Nicholas Cage dropping to his knees and screaming “Noooooooo!” while waving flares fit perfectly into the story.)

Of course, ultimately, this is my problem and not Michael Bay’s — I know full well what his movies are like, and yet I keep buying tickets, essentially saying with my $10.50 “It’s ok, Michael, I know you hit me because you love me.” However, this is my blog, and Michael Bay, rolling in dough out there in L.A., just pisses me off.

Michael Bay, you are Meccanized. (But I will still go see “The Unborn” when it comes out, and I expect at least a few of you reading to come with me.)

Written by lindsay in: Opinion | Tags: , ,


I will readily admit that I am not the most political person in the world. Donkeys…Elephants (asses…fatties…) — I side with the Democrats on almost all social issues, but that doesn’t mean I think all Republicans are inherently wrong. Independent of anything else, someone’s political affiliation won’t move the needle for me.

But what does grind my gears is stupidity. Democrat stupidity and Republican stupidity — put whatever modifier you want in front of it. It is still stupidity. if it smells like poo and it looks like poo…

And so that brings me to today’s annoyance of the day:

I kid you not…

In between killing boar and popping out babies did she suddenly get her doctorate in biology? Fruit fly research has been instrumental in breakthroughs in autism, birth defects and a whole slew of diseases, because we humans an incredible number of related genes with fruit flies.

When I initially watched this video, I was laughing. But after some thought, my laughter was replaced by actual anger at Palin’s smugness and self-satisfaction and at the people who continue to titter away at her rock-stupid, narrow comments. As a soft-biology major, and as someone who shares a desk with a hardcore science person, I felt the need to write this entry.

Sarah Palin: you are Meccanized.

Written by lindsay in: Opinion | Tags: ,

It Don’t Matter if You’re Black or White…or Does It?

You know what else really grinds my gears? Pigeons.

Rats of the sky.

They are fighting outside of my office window right now, and the thwacking their dirty, feathery bodies make as they knock into the glass is pushing me closer and closer to tangible fury.

What bugs me, more, though is the elitism that some pigeons seem to feel over others. There is this one black and white pigeon that I’ve seen around these haunts quite a bit. He’s (or she’s…how can you tell?) is actually kind of endearing — he waddles around a little when he walks, I think because he has something wrong with one of his feet, and he carries himself with a quiet confidence that you don’t find in…pigeons…often.

Anyway, routinely this little guy seems to be left out of the pigeon fun; the other pigeon bullies ignore him and whenever he flaps himself over to where they are perched, they fly away. Who do they think they are?

Asshat pigeons who exclude one semi-endearing pigeon: You’ve been Meccanized.

Written by lindsay in: Opinion | Tags:

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie…And Don’t Dress Them

Ok. I don’t think I am capable of softening this, so I am just going to say it unapologetically:

People who dress their dogs in clothing (or do anything more ridiculous that, like take their dogs to get manis and pedis or Swedish massages) make me sorry to be part of the human race. This goes so far beyond just griding my gears.

A friend of mine told me that her sister dresses her dog up and that she would get me a picture to use for this post. I steeled myself for the worst, but the picture was a pleasant surprise:

Sort of cute...and punt-able

Sure, I still think this is ridiculous, but giving your dog (though I am not even sure this punt-able creature can even be called a dog) an accessory isn’t that bad and can actually be kind of cute.

No, I am talking about monstrosities such as this:

There are no words...

There are no words...

Dogs are animals for God’s sake! They are meant to be dirty and furrily naked. They should be allowed to feel the freedom of having their paws touch the ground without having booties between them and the pavement. They should be allowed to feel the cool breeze blowing through their fur, not floating over a wool sweater emblazoned with “Fashion: Doggie Style” (ha…ha…get it? The people who find this little pun laugh-out-loud funny are the same people who bring their dog to a gym and make it run on the treadmill for exercise.)

And what I think a lot of people miss about this whole dog pampering movement is the impact it will have on dogkind. Every time you tie that hoodie on your pug, that dog becomes less likely to be able to adapt to cold weather without it. The little pads on its Golden Retriever feet lose their calluses a little bit every time you lace up its tiny shoes. And the Terrier loses the ability to successfully act on its instinct to hunt and kill every time you file and paint its nails (but I just crossed into a whole other realm of crazy).

It is basic Darwinism– survival of the fittest, and I guarantee you in no scenario will the fittest dog ever be one with a little bow in its fur and socks on its paws.


Dog pamperers (and, for good measure, punt-able dogs): consider yourself Meccanized.

Written by lindsay in: Opinion | Tags: ,

Cilantro, By Any Other Name, Does Not Smell (or Taste) as Sweet

I was told that first posts that are too intro-y are cheesy, so I’ll keep this brief. Welcome to my blog.

Now, down to brass tacks.

You know what really grinds my gears? Cilantro.

Apparently, there is a genetic trait that makes cilantro taste badly to some segment of the population (a beautiful, wonderful segment). People have argued this with me for as long as I have been vocal about my feelings, but I put my faith in science on this one.

It is hard for me to put my distaste for cilantro into words. Its very existence makes me upset. It’s like the Miley Cyrus of the herb world– dry-heave inducing, totally ruins whatever it is a part of, and I can’t quite figure out why people want it around.

And it seems to be popping up everywhere, even places where it has no business being. Case in point: I ordered duck ravioli lightly sauteed in chicken broth (because any meal that includes two of the 3 components of a Turducken is A-OK in my book) at a high-end restaurant a few months ago (I don’t let things go easily, in case you couldn’t tell). The bowl was lowered to the table and set in front of me, and my usual excitement in the presence of edibles rapidly devolved to upset as I noticed the green sprinklings on the plate and in the broth. At first I couldn’t believe it, then was sad, then frustrated, then furious, and then I accepted that my meal was tainted– my own personal Kubler-Ross model. I made it through the meal by taking a swig of wine, then shoving a forkful of cilantro-tainted duck into my mouth and swallowing really quickly before the taste of the alcohol wore off.

Agony. Sheer agony.

Cilantro, you’ve been Meccanized.

(I promise that future posts will be more substantive and relevant, but I figured this was as good a place as any to cut my teeth as a blogger, since this is something I clearly feel very passionately about.)

Written by lindsay in: Opinion | Tags: , ,

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