Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Not to ruin the ending, but I die at the end.

So I started this blog to give all my sad, homeless, unfinished articles a home, but discovered I'm quite too lazy to transfer them all over from their temporary halfway houses in notebooks or word documents, day planners- wherever they may be.

In my attempt to have a witty and insightful blog, it has resulted in not very many blog entries, leading me to the conclusion that I am only witty or insightful at very periodic intervals. So instead of trying to be clever, ironic, or whatever's hip these days, I'm just going to spout of arbitrary nonsense and hope it entertains. I fell it's better for the creative process anyway. (That was a joke. Get it? Cuz I sound pretentious and- never mind.)

What is that saying the French have? The one where you're insulted or challenged, but at the time you can't think of anything glib to say until you're standing on the stairs, and then the most devastating remark just dawns on you? Esprit de la escalier or something Frenchy like that. I think I have the opposite of it; I think of all this crap to write down, and then when I actually go to write it out, it all leaves me. Fucking French.

Is there a word for thinking of something, walking to another room, forgetting what you thought of, and then going back to where you originally thought of it in order to remember? My mom taught me that trick, and for some scary reason, it works. It has about an 84% success rate. It's pretty much voodoo.

Also, Jamba Juice is a lie. It's not healthy for you. How can you trust the health claims of a corporation that, first of all, employs shady-looking high schools with fake smiles and ball caps (you gonna play ball in the store?) and second of all, uses styrofoam cups with plastic straws and lids. Um, let's back up a minute. You claim to be all New Agey and earth-friendly and body-healthy and shit, but you deliver your product in a vehicle that has absolutely no future as anything other than that cup, that straw, and that lid. After you've served your heart-healthy, energy-boosting, could-be-but-probably-isn't-organic (and let's face it, what really IS organic now, anyway?) beverage to the masses, you take zero responsibility in its container's disposal.
"Oh no, we've been found out, Mr. Juice!" "Looks like it, Mrs. Juice!" That's how Mr. and Mrs. Jamba Juice talk in my mind. Not that I hear voices, I just imagine them as very animated people. Plus I don't know their real names. I'm just ripping on them.

So as I was ranting, it's pretty much bullshit, I'd say. At least there's no high-fructose corn syrup, or so we think. Jeez. There's a whole other topic we just do not have time for.

As for other things that are bullshit (pardon my French. I started with the escalier stuff and just couldn't stop), so is excessive training that you just have no use for. But maybe that's one for the corn syrup day too.

Good cliffhanger. Give you something to look forward to.

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