I have something I call the “Creep Vibe.” It’s a completely irrational gut feeling I get off of people (well, honestly, men) when I meet them. These people are usually introduced as cool friends of friends, but no matter what, I just get a bad feeling from them. It’s super awkward, especially since some of them I have to hang out with in a social or professional situation. I would say I get the creep vibe once or twice a year. None of the creeps have ever ended up doing anything to me personally (mainly because I would do my best to avoid them), but yet I still trust this instinct. Yet I feel like an ass when describing why I don’t like them. Does this happen to other people? Has your creep vibe been confirmed? I can think of five of them off the top of my head immediately. Usually it’s an extreme feeling, not, “Oh I really don’t care for that person.” but “I think that person is not a good person and will do something bad.” Also it has nothing to do with what we talk about, what they are interested in, etc. It’s just immediate.
Archive for social networking
Today I unfortunately found really, really horrible pornography on flickr. In a way, I am shocked I have used Flickr for this long without finding very unattractive people having sex. Bikers can be very unattractive people, and biker women really don’t like wearing a bra. If there’s anything I have learned today it is to wear a bra and sunscreen all the time. Yet all of these very (to my mind) horrifically unattractive people had lots and lots of fans even even though I would say the majority of their boobs fell into the generally accepted as unattractive “pancake” or “stretch mark” varieties.
Of course, I could not keep these horrifying photos to myself. I shared. And my friend, over IM, replied:
you are a classificationist
you’ve classified tits
And there you go. They call it a discipline because it puts rules around the way you think. Even about boobs, apparently.
I am trying out Crazy Blind Date this evening. So far the matchup looks pretty good, though I cast a wide net. We’re meeting a Russian vodka bar, which, especially if you don’t know anything about me, is an amazing choice. I like the CrazyBlindDate idea if only because I am a procrastinator who loves immediate social interaction. If you live in the NYC area and are stalking me, this would be a perfect way to do so. In fact, if I knew any single people I might convince them to use this only to hang out with them. That would be awesome.
I have new Pownce invites, so if you want to upload a lot of Kevin Rose pics I can ogle, or, theoretically, other things, comment and I’ll send you an invite.
In other new interweb news I am dorkily excited about the possibilities of BookTour. You should join that too.
I was looking on Meetup.com regarding a meetup in my hood. While surfing around the site, I found a section for asexual meetups. I will clarify here that while I have nothing against asexuals, I completely cannot fathom this lifestyle and, admittedly, am probably somewhat derisive about it (I fear what I cannot understand!). The case of asexuals was not helped by this statistical cluster on their page:
Popular Meetups with Asexuals
- Voluntary Human Extinction
- SA Support
- Shyness & Social Anxiety
- Sexual Assault Support
- Fat Pride
- Big Beautiful Women
- Bad Girl
- Adult Entertainment
- Indigo Girls
Okay so there’s some social anxiety and body issues there, which maybe are causing people to avoid sexual interactions but not necessarily showing a lack of interest in sex itself. But what’s up with bad girl and adult entertainment? I feel like, if you are calling yourself a bad girl or watching a lot of porn you are probably, BY DEFINITION not asexual. Porn seems like a pretty good litmus test there. And if you are so into the indigo girls you are going to a meetup, well that joke is too easy, but also points distinctly at sexuality.
vote for me (broad) for consumating prom queen here.
the one positive of my real prom was that it didn’t have a king or queen. not that i would have won! i did enjoy both proms i attended, i have to say. while i hated high school in general, i did enjoy the “big dance” aspect of it, because i like dancing and excuses to dress fancy.
Recently I have seen many calls for papers of pop culture things. My recent favorites being a call for literary analysis on Jennifer Crusie novels. And then there’s this one for the Mag Fields:
Call for Magnetic Fields Papers:Scholarly articles interpreting the lyrics of songs by The Magnetic Fields desired for a book.Each paper should be between 2000 and 5000 words.please send abstracts to susancallow_at_hotmail.comArticles should interpret lyrics in depth. An entire paper about one song would be excellent or a paper about four songs in conjunction. Papers that cover more than 5 songs should display overall comprehensive knowledge of the Magnetic Fields. It is important that each paper cover any literary references in the songs being discussed.
Now in no way do I mean to dis on these calls for papers. As a fan of both Crusie and Merritt, I have often thought critically while enjoying their art. And that is why I am sending out the official
INSANE CLOWN POSSE CALL FOR PAPERS (which, unsurprisingly, is without google hits):
Can be about the entire Dark Carnival mythos or singular songs including these titles:
- What Is a Juggalo?: The Foucaudian Panopticon at Work in Suburban America
- Women Behind the Clown Makeup: The Role of the Juggalette in ICP Fandom
- Wikkid Gamez: Evil Klown Role-Play Among Male Twentysomethings
So please, join in!
“Why Justin,” said Foucault with disarming nonchalance, “are you not, as you Americans say, down with the clown?“
Even more strange, his name sounded familiar and I realized this blogger and I went to college together. See what community the literary crit of ICP can bring?
If you have seen me in person in the last month, no doubt I have mentioned lala to you. Or perhaps you have heard me speak about it to someone else. Without a doubt it is the website most changing my life at the moment (well, other than this one). Basically, you list all the cds you don’t want and all the cds you do want. Then they send you one cd you do want for every cd someone else wants. They send you all the cd sleeves and envelopes, so all you do is click and put the cd in the mailer, address it, and drop it in the mailbox. For the free mailers and postage, you pay a buck fifty for each cd you receive. 20% also goes to the artist.
Here are the cds I have coming:
|The Teaches Of Peaches: Expanded (Disc 1)
|The Moldy Peaches
by The Moldy Peaches
|Human Butt (Disc 2)
by Henry Rollins
And here are those I am sending out:
by Reverend Horton Heat
|Experimental Jet Set, Trash & No Star
by Sonic Youth
by Original Soundtrack
by Garth Brooks
I have a whole bunch of invites, since it’s still a beta site. Let me know in comments if you would like one!
Friendster, I fell for you hard, and early. I was with you when no one I knew knew you. I talked about you to others. I met people because of you (although some were unsavory types, it’s true). When you added features, I dutifully used many of them, although I’ll admit some of them baffled me (why would I want to be friends with Britney Spears’ perfume?). When many, many people switched to myspace, I shrugged it off. The kids these days! You were better. I could read you without annoying loud music interrupting and blinky tags. You had more of my friends on you.
I dare say I have become a better friend because of you, Friendster. Sometimes I cannot remember a friend’s bday, and you were there. I got in touch with people I had missed. I slept on their couches when in their towns.
And adding “It’s complicated” as a relationship topic? Friendster, it was like you were my bestest friend who I had been calling and explaining my life to. You knew the politics of my relationships and summed them up in two words.
But come now. It’s over. Stop with the emails. None of my friendsters want me to see their updates, but you send me emails with these lies. That woman who poked me or whatever your version of the “poke” is is not real. She lives in Greece. Hello. Greece isn’t REAL. It seems like every day there’s another pathetic email from you anouncing new features. It just makes me SAD Friendster. Don’t do this. You have more dignity, more class. That’s why I liked you. At this rate, you’re behaving like an Orkut. Why don’t you get twenty fake Brazilians to befriend me, huh?
We’ve had our fun, Friendster. You’re better than the others, but sadly I don’t make these decisions alone. Now go quietly into the dark night and leave me peace. It’ll be better that way for the both of us.