Remember how, in ancient Greece, if you were an insufferable douche, the people could get together and vote you out of society, Survivor-style? It's time to adopt that again. For the good of society. Among the first ones to go: people who ask you for help because they don't have a clue what they're doing, then proceed to ignore everything you say and just do whatever the fuck they were doing before you got there. Imagine a world where I never have to have this conversation again:
Her: I'm trying to find out how to search your website to see if you have something. Me: OK, you'll start, of course, by going to our website. [I give her the URL] Her: OK Me: You should see a link to the catalog in the upper right-hand corner. Her: I see "hours," "online resources..." Should I just go to "online resources?" Me: No, that's not the right page. Look above that and to the right. It should say "Go to Catalog." Her: I don't have what you have. [I assume that by this she meant the ability to follow simple instructions instead of banging around on the keyboard like a monkey writing a draft of Hamlet] Should I just go to "online resources?" Me: No. You should see a search bar up in the corner. Just above that is the link you're looking for. Her: I see the search bar, but there's nothing above it. Here, I'll go to the next page. [She starts reading off every link she can see on the page] Me: What? Next page? There is no next—I have no idea what page you're on. Her: I'm on page 3... Me:Page 3? What the f—did you just do a Google search for the website? Her: Yes. Me:picardfacepalm.jpg
Also on the list:
Hipsters
Anyone who makes a commercial with a talking baby.
People who say "I'm computer illiterate (tee hee!)" like it's a point of pride. Especially when they actually mean "do everything for me."
Every website with a flash intro that you can't skip or obnoxious background music that plays at 900 dB.
Anybody who refers to a room in their house as a "man cave." The correct term is "penis parlor." Also, you're a douche.
Hipsters (again).
The person at our old apartment whose car alarm would go off for about three hours straight every Saturday morning.
The Corn Refiners Association. (I'm not going to stop drinking soda, but seriously, stop calling high fructose corn syrup "natural." You're assholes, and it insults everyone's intelligence).
I would have put that creepy-ass mascot from Burger King on here, but apparently that's already happened.
This is by no means everybody. Who's on your list?
So, against my better judgment, I finally fucking read Twilight. It took me almost a year. Not because it was deep, or had tiny print, or contained anything even remotely intellectually stimulating, but because it was excruciating. Dear. God. In. Heaven. 500 pages of an awkward, irritating girl fawning over some asshole boy's body. This didn't deserve to be a novel; this should have been a note passed in study hall: "OMG, Edward is soooo hot!!!" The End. It's the sort of writing that would have given Mark Twain a stroke.
When she's not busy swooning, Bella takes every opportunity she can to remind us that she's so socially and physically awkward that she can't carry on a conversation or take three steps without falling over. Combine that with her complete lack of any instincts for self-preservation and it's nothing short of a complete miracle that she's survived even this long. Case in point: Edward is going to take Bella home to meet his glampire vampire family, and Bella is nervous because ZOMG, SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR! THIS IS THE MOST LOGICAL THING TO BE WORRIED ABOUT IN THIS SITUATION!
"It was hard to decide what to wear. I doubted there were any etiquette books detailing how to dress when your vampire sweetheart takes you home to meet his vampire family." (Ch. 15)
You know why? BECAUSE HE'S A FUCKING VAMPIRE! He doesn't take you home to meet his family. He takes you home to kill you by draining all the blood from your body. You should wear a steel turtleneck soaked in garlic. That is, assuming that Eerie Hymen Pest hasn't changed the mythology so that garlic just gives them the power to bounce off shit or something.
On that topic: (skip to about 3:15 for the most relevant bit)
You know what's the worst part of Twilight? He sparkles. HE FUCKING SPARKLES! Even though I knew about it before I read it, I couldn't handle it when this happened. Suspension of disbelief = OVER. I literally threw the book across the room and went to pour myself a drink.
But then, the other night, I saw this on TV and it made me feel a little bit better: Anne Rice and Craig Ferguson making fun of some unnamed glampire story. Any resemblance to other stories is, I'm sure, entirely coincidental (starts at 2:00ish):
Dear Stephenie Meyer, or possibly someone else, because we totally can't tell who they're talking about: When arguably the most successful vampire writer in history is making fun of you, you're probably not doing it right.
I promise that this is the last time I'll bitch write about Twilight, probably. You should really check outReasoning With Vampires, though. Dana is hilarious, and gives us the sort of commentary on the series that Mark Twain might if he were still alive today. And way more crass. And proficient at image editing.
In other news, I'm two books into The Hunger Games. It's refreshing to read something, well, good. </plugs>
