Look Alive, Sunshine.

It's only been a few hours since I finished my last post, but it's a brand new day, and everything starts fresh if I go to sleep. 

Firstly.  I joined Twitter a while back.  Not because I want to do all the twittering and tweeting and twatting and whatnot.  I just want to stalk some celebrities.  Some of them are celebrities I don't give a damn about.  Stephen... I don't even remember his last name, that's how much I don't care.  Stephen Fry!  I was told that he was witty and clever and stuff.  Not on Twitter, apparently.  He just goes on about all these absurdly British things, and how he goes to random interviews and concerts and his busy schedule and stuff that I don't care about.

I follow about 42 people in total.  Mostly musicians,  some joke accounts like Darth Vader, and a few friends.  None of my friends do anything on Twitter.  They realize that anything that can go on Twitter, can be put on facebook, and actually receive responses.  A few friends don't know that though, and that's why I didn't add them.  Just because we're friends, doesn't mean I care about you craving a muffin.

Secondly, Twitter has alerted me to articles about our new "alien ambassador".  Now that would be a cool job.  Unfortunately, its not real.  Let's pretend it is anyway.  Her name is Mazlan Othman.  Now why the hell did we (not really) appoint someone to represent humans, when their name is not even a vaguely human-sounding name.  Are we even sure SHE is human?  Is that how she got the job?  Also, she's apparently an astrophysicist.  Now, from what I've heard, astrophysicists aren't the most social of people.  They've got all this intelligence packed into one compartment, and nothing on the social side of things.  As my psych lecturer said only yesterday:  People can be "socially retarded".  Not saying my good ole' bud Mazlan is socially retarded, just sayin'.

Who would I prefer as alien ambassador?  I'd personally pick someone young-ish, mid thirties maybe, with some sort of political qualifications, who is a good negotiator.  He'd (yes, HE.  Like it or not ladies, men would be a better representative if we were to make contact with aliens.  It also represents our generally patriarchal society) have to have some sort position of power, not some douche off the street. 

I wonder what sort of qualifications were needed?  From what I read, Mazlan already had a job as Head of Space Affairs or something, and alien ambassador was kind of tacked on at the end.  But what if I wanted to apply?  An 18 year old Australian girl, with a quarter of a degree in something completely unrelated.  Previous experience in fast food and a toy store.  I'd say I'm more than qualified to represent the human race.

Anyway, like I said earlier, its not real.  Damn.  Dreams are being shattered all over the place here.

I don't feel very good.  It's about 9am at the moment, and I feel like I'm hungover.  I don't usually get hangovers when I drink, so why do I get them when I purposely AVOID drinking?  Energy drink for breakfast.  I know it's probably terrible for me, and I don't gain anything from it, but I drink them anyway.  I don't know if there's actually a major difference between energy drinks, but for some reason, everyone has a preference.  I like Monster.  My parents get this confused with Mother, so when I ask them to buy me Monster, they get Mother.  I drink it anyway.

I just opened iTunes to have some music playing while I attempt to pull shit out of my ass for this blog.  I need to work on writing 2000 words a day for November. I set the challenge, and other people are taking it on, so I can't just fail at it.   I've managed to write at least 1500 for the last few blogs, so I just need to build on that.  I don't know how I even manage that, since most of my assignments are 1500 in length, and I struggle with them for weeks.  But if I just dribble shit, I can do 1500 no worries.

Back to my point.  I put on iTunes to hear some music.  It wants me to download another update.  What if I don't want to?  Oh, is that right iTunes?  You'll stop working if I don't?  God damn it, I guess I will then.  I'm not happy about that last update.  I had my library all set out nicely, exactly how I wanted it.  I download an update, and its entirely different.  Now there's shit everywhere, and I can't get rid of it.  And the logo thing is different too.  Why change it?  They somehow managed to change it to be more generic.  Now it's not distinctly iTunes, it's more like iGeneric Music Player.  I suppose that works.  Apple likes monopoly.  They want their program to be the generic music player, so the average computer user won't ever use another program.


Speaking of monopoly, that reminds me of a topic scheduled for November.  Monopoly.  Stay tuned for that exciting one.

Back onto the topic of music.  Katy Perry's California Girls (Gurls?).  The song isn't that terrible, but maybe I'm blinded by my infatuation with her.  So blinded that I can't hear.  That makes sense.  I mean, look at her. (also, look at that halterneck! See what it does?)

  The song is the standard "let's party on the beach" kind of song.  It goes on about pretty girls, bikinis, beaches etc.  So you think the music video will be straightforward, and it will fit perfectly.  Apparently, Katy Perry is living in Bizzaro-California, some alternate reality where Snoop Dog is a giant, with an army of rude little gummy bears.  Its all candy and board game themed, because, y'know, the song is all about candyland board games.  Didn't you hear how many times she mentioned it in her song?


...

Clearly, this is an example of media misrepresentation.  I was lead to believe that California was an American state, known for its beaches, and slutty lay-around women.  Katy Perry has shown me the truth!  It's all a giant board game with cotton candy and tiny dresses, and no obesity or diabetes in sight (those pieces stay in the box) !

Don't worry.  I'm quite heterosexual, and I only obsess over certain females.  Namely you, "Ms OMG If you can find other females attractive, you MUST be attracted to me!".  Be at ease, you aren't my type.  My type  has stubble, a manly stench and a penis.  Or, since the people who know me are comparing this image to the image of someone else right now,  I'll settle for the potential for stubble, the stench of smoke (hey, I'm anosmic, but that's for another day), and a penis.  Not that penises are important.  It just makes them male.

Dad's home (I think).  So I'll finish this later.