In advertising the absorption of their new Charmin Extra Absorbent Toilet Paper, the producers of the commercial set up a scene with a mama and baby bear in a boat, fishing.
They aren't very successful.
The baby bear suddenly gets a genius idea to drop a single sheet of Charmin onto the lake. Almost instantly all the water is absorbed into the sheet of paper and the remnants of the lake's contents are left wiggling at the bottom of the dry pit; fish, plant life ,etc.
Congratulations hygienic-care products, you're teaching the youth of our nation to kill the environment with one sheet when compared to two of a leading value brand.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Those Troublesome Whales; in no relation to the recent outbreaks.
.
.
For those who's solitary hunger is to become a zoo curator and eventually sell the fruit of your life's labors:
"It's a joke in the zoo business, a weary joke, that the paperwork involved in trading a shrew weighs more than an elephant, that the paperwork involved in trading an elephant weighs more than a whale, and that you must never try to trade a whale, never."
...................................................................................................................................vvvv........................................Life of Pi
.
For those who's solitary hunger is to become a zoo curator and eventually sell the fruit of your life's labors:
"It's a joke in the zoo business, a weary joke, that the paperwork involved in trading a shrew weighs more than an elephant, that the paperwork involved in trading an elephant weighs more than a whale, and that you must never try to trade a whale, never."
...................................................................................................................................vvvv........................................Life of Pi
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Clearly Qualified.
"Usually in literature, the protagonist either resolves the conflict, or not."
- Insight from a NY high school English Lit teacher.
- Insight from a NY high school English Lit teacher.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Triwizards Tournament
I am watching The Goblet of Fire for the 7th time in the last year. It is Harry Potter weekend on abc family and I'm having a predictably difficult time ignoring the allures Harry sets before me.
It is the scene where Harry is "up to bat" in the first challenge. He is paired with a Hungarian Horn Tail Dragon and must retrieve the golden egg in the center of the fairground while simultaneously eluding its fiery grasp. Harry is doing a pitiful job and is completely oblivious to the fact that he is a wizard, for goodness sakes, until Hermione yells it out a him.
After getting that dimwitted look of "Eureka!" on his face, Harry calls "Acchio Firebolt" and moments later his broom comes zooming in his direction.
Harry proceeds to fly around the stadium and is just feet away from the egg when the dragon blocks his path with a pillar of fire. Harry quickly dodges the blaze and up, up, and away he goes over the stadium boundary. The Horn Tail bolts right up after him with incredibly velocity and snaps the chain that contains it in the field.
Here is the instance that puzzles me and is the purpose of this possibly fruitless rant. I can't seem to justify to myself why any of the teachers at this point did not intercede in the occurring events.I imagine the thoughts of Dumbledore at this moment were as follows:
" Wow that's one nasty dragon."
*Ponders for a moment*
"Am i glad that I'm not entered in this tournament. That's one bloody animal i wouldn't want to meddle with."
*Scratches his beard thoughtfully.*
"Hmm maybe someone should wrangle that dragon before he kills the only person in the world who can defeat Voldemort."
*Pause*
"Oh look at that, the sky's getting muddy. It'll rain soon, I better poof myself up an umbrella hat"
Poor Harry, good thing he is a resourceful young lad.
It is the scene where Harry is "up to bat" in the first challenge. He is paired with a Hungarian Horn Tail Dragon and must retrieve the golden egg in the center of the fairground while simultaneously eluding its fiery grasp. Harry is doing a pitiful job and is completely oblivious to the fact that he is a wizard, for goodness sakes, until Hermione yells it out a him.
After getting that dimwitted look of "Eureka!" on his face, Harry calls "Acchio Firebolt" and moments later his broom comes zooming in his direction.
Harry proceeds to fly around the stadium and is just feet away from the egg when the dragon blocks his path with a pillar of fire. Harry quickly dodges the blaze and up, up, and away he goes over the stadium boundary. The Horn Tail bolts right up after him with incredibly velocity and snaps the chain that contains it in the field.
Here is the instance that puzzles me and is the purpose of this possibly fruitless rant. I can't seem to justify to myself why any of the teachers at this point did not intercede in the occurring events.I imagine the thoughts of Dumbledore at this moment were as follows:
" Wow that's one nasty dragon."
*Ponders for a moment*
"Am i glad that I'm not entered in this tournament. That's one bloody animal i wouldn't want to meddle with."
*Scratches his beard thoughtfully.*
"Hmm maybe someone should wrangle that dragon before he kills the only person in the world who can defeat Voldemort."
*Pause*
"Oh look at that, the sky's getting muddy. It'll rain soon, I better poof myself up an umbrella hat"
Poor Harry, good thing he is a resourceful young lad.
When forever meant forever,
And whenever meant whenever,
Both of us knew we’d live up to this promise.
But now forever is different,
Remolded, transformed.
How can forever change?
Is not forever, forever?
And whenever, whenever?
How can the everlasting become lasting,
And how can infinity lose its value.
The clock ticks,
It tocks,
It chimes and somehow,
By some mystical power,
Forever seeps like tie-dye into a vat of molding clay,
Like melted crayons,
Only to harden and become an unrecognizable mass.
To redo what’s been done to forever is now unthinkable.
It is impossible and unattainable to return to the whenever you had moments ago.
Because moments were not moments but only seem so to the hazy eye.
Moments were more like days and months and years,
Years of haze and fog scattered by periodic sunlight,
Subsequently swept away by violent monsoon winds.
Moments have become irreparable,
They’ve always been irreparable.
Forever is not the forever you’ve once known,
And whenever is now something unfamiliar.
These terms are unknown,
Spoken as from a dialect never introduced to your young ears,
The implications that are imposed are not those you have made,
These words have no correlation to you.
They are apart,
And you are apart,
And you two depart because business between each other there is not.
Goodbye alien words,
With meanings that to decipher without knowledge of in the first place is clearly unfeasible,
Farewell hooded figures,
A sense of deja vu resides only for an instant until the mist envelopes your silhouette.
And whenever meant whenever,
Both of us knew we’d live up to this promise.
But now forever is different,
Remolded, transformed.
How can forever change?
Is not forever, forever?
And whenever, whenever?
How can the everlasting become lasting,
And how can infinity lose its value.
The clock ticks,
It tocks,
It chimes and somehow,
By some mystical power,
Forever seeps like tie-dye into a vat of molding clay,
Like melted crayons,
Only to harden and become an unrecognizable mass.
To redo what’s been done to forever is now unthinkable.
It is impossible and unattainable to return to the whenever you had moments ago.
Because moments were not moments but only seem so to the hazy eye.
Moments were more like days and months and years,
Years of haze and fog scattered by periodic sunlight,
Subsequently swept away by violent monsoon winds.
Moments have become irreparable,
They’ve always been irreparable.
Forever is not the forever you’ve once known,
And whenever is now something unfamiliar.
These terms are unknown,
Spoken as from a dialect never introduced to your young ears,
The implications that are imposed are not those you have made,
These words have no correlation to you.
They are apart,
And you are apart,
And you two depart because business between each other there is not.
Goodbye alien words,
With meanings that to decipher without knowledge of in the first place is clearly unfeasible,
Farewell hooded figures,
A sense of deja vu resides only for an instant until the mist envelopes your silhouette.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Love's Consequence.
The vibrant blooom,
The sky above,
Is all you note when you're in love.
But when you miss the gaping crack,
You'll bump your head and break your back,
And then it's all hell that's loose,
Because your walking like a goose,
And all that's heard is cackling laughter,
Always trailing seconds after.
Now what follows is even worse,
Cause makeup homework is just a curse,
So essentially, what you've really done,
Is made a mess that's just begun,
For you see, after all of this has passed,
You must still endure the itchy cast.
So after many months in your idle state,
You'll think "I'm ready for a romantic date",
So you'll pick out a cute ensemble,
and excitement through your body will rumble.
But sure enough a bother will arise,
More formidable than you may surmise,
Because if you haven't looked in the mirror just yet,
You won't realize your now the lumpiest girl you've ever met,
And when your long awaited Date's here,
He'll look you up, down and around and sneer,
And you realize you've left your dress hiked up in the back,
Moreover you resemble an irregular burlap sack.
You'll blush and you'll giggle in attempt to hide the shame,
but wow wasn't that incredibly lame,
So all in all it's been a miserable time,
By female-law it would be considered a crime.
You're sick and your tired of all this rubbish
And I'm so annoyed myself i can't think of a good rhymebbish.
In conclusion here's what i say,
I wish this lesson will not cause you dismay.
With final words i wish you luck,
Please don't be like me, don't be a shmuck.
The sky above,
Is all you note when you're in love.
But when you miss the gaping crack,
You'll bump your head and break your back,
And then it's all hell that's loose,
Because your walking like a goose,
And all that's heard is cackling laughter,
Always trailing seconds after.
Now what follows is even worse,
Cause makeup homework is just a curse,
So essentially, what you've really done,
Is made a mess that's just begun,
For you see, after all of this has passed,
You must still endure the itchy cast.
So after many months in your idle state,
You'll think "I'm ready for a romantic date",
So you'll pick out a cute ensemble,
and excitement through your body will rumble.
But sure enough a bother will arise,
More formidable than you may surmise,
Because if you haven't looked in the mirror just yet,
You won't realize your now the lumpiest girl you've ever met,
And when your long awaited Date's here,
He'll look you up, down and around and sneer,
And you realize you've left your dress hiked up in the back,
Moreover you resemble an irregular burlap sack.
You'll blush and you'll giggle in attempt to hide the shame,
but wow wasn't that incredibly lame,
So all in all it's been a miserable time,
By female-law it would be considered a crime.
You're sick and your tired of all this rubbish
And I'm so annoyed myself i can't think of a good rhymebbish.
In conclusion here's what i say,
I wish this lesson will not cause you dismay.
With final words i wish you luck,
Please don't be like me, don't be a shmuck.
Childhood complications.
" You owe me 60 cents!"
*Older sister looks back and grins*
"Dad, she owes me 60 cents i swear. Give me my 60 cents"
*Sister keeps walking*
"You better give me my 60 cents"
Poor little kiddo, hang in there, we've all been through it.
*Older sister looks back and grins*
"Dad, she owes me 60 cents i swear. Give me my 60 cents"
*Sister keeps walking*
"You better give me my 60 cents"
Poor little kiddo, hang in there, we've all been through it.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Happy St. Patrick's Day.
Lucky Charms have, for years, been my prime choice of morning nutrition. However they inflicted doubts in my mind in my greatest time of need.
Everyone has heard me vent endlessly on the subject of my AP Calculus AB class, well today it was taken to a new level of confusion and emotional pain. Luckily, or rather what I initially figured, was that the Lucky Charms I was smart enough to bring in a little zip lock baggie, would keep me mentally stable.
Life is disappointing. Especially when you reliance lies in a breakfast cereal.
I began by ridDing the mix of the frosted oats, because although satisfying, the marshmallows are the George Clooney of the ingredients and that's why I always leave them for last. I ate voraciously until one of each charm remained :a purple horseshoe, a red balloon, a blue half-moon, an orange and white shooting star, a yellow and orange pot of gold, a polychromatic rainbow, a two-tone green leprechaun hat, and a yellow and orange hourglass.
I reminisced of my childhood momentarily, recalling the adventures that ruled my imaginations and the explorations that occupied my time. Things were more feral back then; actions were not guided by stress and the flawed American school system but rather curiosity for enterprise. I suddenly grabbed the hourglass from the perfectly aligned lineup.
I squeezed the charm in my hand with closed eyes and with a hopeful mind, mumbled nonsensical rhymes that i imagined would befit a leprechaun. I adjured to be fast-forwarded through the next hour of calculus in a matter of seconds.
As you've probably already guessed, it didn't work.
Mildly disheartened but not completely forlorn, I put my previous lack of success from my thoughts and proceeded to grab the balloon charm. I repeated the prior procedure but to no avail; the marshmallow did not expand to the size of a hot-air balloon nor did i take flight and allow me to escape the satanic classroom that i was locked into by my guidance counselor unyielding pigheadedness.
The subsequent 5 seconds were passed by the gobbling up of the remaining marshmallows. All hope was lost for me. I sympathized with Victor Frankenstein after the death of his dear Clerval; I had lost a naiveté that was crucial to my happiness.
Dear Lucky Charms, you hold no elusive, mystical power, however you are still without question and even after debate magically delicious.
Everyone has heard me vent endlessly on the subject of my AP Calculus AB class, well today it was taken to a new level of confusion and emotional pain. Luckily, or rather what I initially figured, was that the Lucky Charms I was smart enough to bring in a little zip lock baggie, would keep me mentally stable.
Life is disappointing. Especially when you reliance lies in a breakfast cereal.
I began by ridDing the mix of the frosted oats, because although satisfying, the marshmallows are the George Clooney of the ingredients and that's why I always leave them for last. I ate voraciously until one of each charm remained :a purple horseshoe, a red balloon, a blue half-moon, an orange and white shooting star, a yellow and orange pot of gold, a polychromatic rainbow, a two-tone green leprechaun hat, and a yellow and orange hourglass.
I reminisced of my childhood momentarily, recalling the adventures that ruled my imaginations and the explorations that occupied my time. Things were more feral back then; actions were not guided by stress and the flawed American school system but rather curiosity for enterprise. I suddenly grabbed the hourglass from the perfectly aligned lineup.
I squeezed the charm in my hand with closed eyes and with a hopeful mind, mumbled nonsensical rhymes that i imagined would befit a leprechaun. I adjured to be fast-forwarded through the next hour of calculus in a matter of seconds.
As you've probably already guessed, it didn't work.
Mildly disheartened but not completely forlorn, I put my previous lack of success from my thoughts and proceeded to grab the balloon charm. I repeated the prior procedure but to no avail; the marshmallow did not expand to the size of a hot-air balloon nor did i take flight and allow me to escape the satanic classroom that i was locked into by my guidance counselor unyielding pigheadedness.
The subsequent 5 seconds were passed by the gobbling up of the remaining marshmallows. All hope was lost for me. I sympathized with Victor Frankenstein after the death of his dear Clerval; I had lost a naiveté that was crucial to my happiness.
Dear Lucky Charms, you hold no elusive, mystical power, however you are still without question and even after debate magically delicious.
An Ode.
I'd like to run away,
To no place at all.
With no special sights,
With no place to go.
With nothing to do,
Just endless grass paths,
And breezy birch air,
With a broad river pass.
I desire no luxury,
No dresses,
No wealth,
No gourmet feast,
Not endless health.
What I yearn for most,
For some, is wholly mundane,
For others absurd,
For most is insane.
A simple three words,
Uttered under the rain,
From his lone voice,
Without a hint of refrain.
Jane Karetny
To no place at all.
With no special sights,
With no place to go.
With nothing to do,
Just endless grass paths,
And breezy birch air,
With a broad river pass.
I desire no luxury,
No dresses,
No wealth,
No gourmet feast,
Not endless health.
What I yearn for most,
For some, is wholly mundane,
For others absurd,
For most is insane.
A simple three words,
Uttered under the rain,
From his lone voice,
Without a hint of refrain.
Jane Karetny
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Cootie Queen. Lint Licker. PICLKED COMQUAT!
>I asked Melissa whether girls or boys have cooties and she said BOYS CAUSE THEY'RE GROSS!
.....>Well that's cause Melissa's a dumb girl.
>Nuhu! I was right. You DO have cooties!
.....>I didn't hear you cause i can't hear people with cooties.
>Then how did you answer?
.....>I can see your cootie mouth moving.
.....>Well that's cause Melissa's a dumb girl.
>Nuhu! I was right. You DO have cooties!
.....>I didn't hear you cause i can't hear people with cooties.
>Then how did you answer?
.....>I can see your cootie mouth moving.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Likely grounds for my constant ailment.
> The Calculus Gods have had enough of my back-sass and will continure to smite me on every test day for the rest of the semester.
> My body has the resilience of an 60 yr old cancer patient.
> My mother has been feeding me anthrax in small dosages because she wants me to feel helpless without her and stay home for college.
>There's a swarm of microscopic Nazi gremlins living in my body.
> My body has the resilience of an 60 yr old cancer patient.
> My mother has been feeding me anthrax in small dosages because she wants me to feel helpless without her and stay home for college.
>There's a swarm of microscopic Nazi gremlins living in my body.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The View From My Lonely Seat
In the midst of my two band, 110 minutes of agonizing, brain cramping Calculus class my attention drifts from the board and i begin to scan the room for something a little more enticing than the process used to find the antiderivative of natural logarithms. My analysis of the individuals in my classroom is an amiable distraction.
Melissa has attached a ripped rubberband to the end of her lead pencil and is whipping it around. I imagine she is fantasizing that she is Indiana Jones in his earlier flicks, the ones that didn't make you cringe in disappointment.
Joe, who somehow maintains a decent grasp of the nonsensical material that is taught in this insufferable class, sings unknown lyrics that i assume are by Carrie Underwood. I derive this because he's been counting down her birthday for months now and is constantly raving about her. For a straight kid he's far too fascinated with Carrie, i decide; the one firm conclusion I am willing to set in stone in this class.
Dinora, possibly the next instructor of such a miserable bunch of students, is practicing the English language with the help of her crackers. She turns around to show me the output of her studious efforts; her crackers spell out "COWS MOO". I giggle because Click, Clack, Moo, Cows That Type is a classic read in my opinion and i look at her with a little more reverence.
My interest is reinvigorated substantially in the ongoing lesson as i hear Doug utter "Is this a leap year?" shortly after the teacher orders upon us a problem concerning compounding monthly interest. Laughter ensues for about 3 seconds after and the room is again morbidly austere.
I refocus my attention to the topic at hand. I can't make out exactly what we're learning but there are several formulas on the board with an unconstitutional amount of variables in each. Cognition again eludes me so i revert to my earlier inattentiveness. I'm doodling around the notes that I've copied from the board and its all a creative conglomerate of X's and limit symbols and squiggles that the teacher calls "integrals". I choose to make use of the materials made readily available to me and construct an axiom that is as follows:
....lim ......calculus = destruction of my cerebral cortex
Jane->∞
Thus i have concluded that my efforts would be far more effective if put into another line of study, such as observing the absurdity of high school subjects and the maniacal teachers who teach them, analyzing the interesting but tangential actions that others take when imminent failure has been recognized, or a simple third line of work: Mailman because never again would i have to look at numbers more complex than a 5 digit postal code.
Melissa has attached a ripped rubberband to the end of her lead pencil and is whipping it around. I imagine she is fantasizing that she is Indiana Jones in his earlier flicks, the ones that didn't make you cringe in disappointment.
Joe, who somehow maintains a decent grasp of the nonsensical material that is taught in this insufferable class, sings unknown lyrics that i assume are by Carrie Underwood. I derive this because he's been counting down her birthday for months now and is constantly raving about her. For a straight kid he's far too fascinated with Carrie, i decide; the one firm conclusion I am willing to set in stone in this class.
Dinora, possibly the next instructor of such a miserable bunch of students, is practicing the English language with the help of her crackers. She turns around to show me the output of her studious efforts; her crackers spell out "COWS MOO". I giggle because Click, Clack, Moo, Cows That Type is a classic read in my opinion and i look at her with a little more reverence.
My interest is reinvigorated substantially in the ongoing lesson as i hear Doug utter "Is this a leap year?" shortly after the teacher orders upon us a problem concerning compounding monthly interest. Laughter ensues for about 3 seconds after and the room is again morbidly austere.
I refocus my attention to the topic at hand. I can't make out exactly what we're learning but there are several formulas on the board with an unconstitutional amount of variables in each. Cognition again eludes me so i revert to my earlier inattentiveness. I'm doodling around the notes that I've copied from the board and its all a creative conglomerate of X's and limit symbols and squiggles that the teacher calls "integrals". I choose to make use of the materials made readily available to me and construct an axiom that is as follows:
....lim ......calculus = destruction of my cerebral cortex
Jane->∞
Thus i have concluded that my efforts would be far more effective if put into another line of study, such as observing the absurdity of high school subjects and the maniacal teachers who teach them, analyzing the interesting but tangential actions that others take when imminent failure has been recognized, or a simple third line of work: Mailman because never again would i have to look at numbers more complex than a 5 digit postal code.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Jiggles, Wiggles and Squiggles.
Earlobes,
Why do you jiggle,
Under oversized pearls,
You constantly wiggle.
And as soon as the jiggling comes to an end,
She turns her head and it all starts again.
Your limp elasticity makes me squirm,
And it's awfully rude I'd like to affirm,
Because no one and nobody and not anyone cares,
To see those wiggly jiggly earlobes amid daily affairs.
So now that you know how uncouth you have been,
And I've made my point briefly therein,
I'd like to thank you dearly for this at least,
My tolerance of jiggling, wiggling body parts has largely increased.
Why do you jiggle,
Under oversized pearls,
You constantly wiggle.
And as soon as the jiggling comes to an end,
She turns her head and it all starts again.
Your limp elasticity makes me squirm,
And it's awfully rude I'd like to affirm,
Because no one and nobody and not anyone cares,
To see those wiggly jiggly earlobes amid daily affairs.
So now that you know how uncouth you have been,
And I've made my point briefly therein,
I'd like to thank you dearly for this at least,
My tolerance of jiggling, wiggling body parts has largely increased.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Wisdom brought on by Public Transportation
Sitting on the bus with a dysfunctional ipod resting in my lap on the way home from school, I'm in a rut because my minds melting of boredom. My mind skips between several thoughts, the excessively buttery salmon I had for lunch, the acne bespeckled kid from math class who's finally introduced himself, and whether it's really necessary that I shower tonight. My thought process halts at the random remembrance of a certain individual several inches taller than me. I start to long for the height that eludes me and stare out the window admiring the stature of those passing by.
" She's tall" I think, observing a tall, clearly European woman in her thirties walking along side the treading bus. "She's taller" I decide a second later as my gaze lands on a statuesque woman in heels. I spot my third victim. She is an aged Russian woman, like those you typically think of when you hear the word "babushka". My analysis of her appearance is curtly cut short by a mental pause whereafter I resolve," her hair's tall" and smirk.
Well, journal, it's been a lesson well learned.
" She's tall" I think, observing a tall, clearly European woman in her thirties walking along side the treading bus. "She's taller" I decide a second later as my gaze lands on a statuesque woman in heels. I spot my third victim. She is an aged Russian woman, like those you typically think of when you hear the word "babushka". My analysis of her appearance is curtly cut short by a mental pause whereafter I resolve," her hair's tall" and smirk.
Well, journal, it's been a lesson well learned.
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