Life Ennui

Why is it that people of my generation are so quick to talk about how awesome the 90’s were? How is it that us 20-somethings are already experiencing life ennui?

(Word of the day: ennui: (ahn-wee) noun: a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom: talking to most of the people in my life produces an unbearable ennui)

To some extent, I completely understand. I mean, those were the days of Hey Arnold! and Rocket Power (Don’t act like you did think you were going to be a world champion skateboarder/rollerblader/surfer/hockey player/snowboarder/bmx-er just like they were. And don’t act like you didn’t pick on your short, fat friend and call him Squid)

 Look at the Squid. What a shoobie.

There was also much better music. No, I’m not talking about Seattle’s grunge-rock scene. I’m talking about the pop-sensation sweeping the nation. Backstreet Boys. ‘N Sync. Brittany Spears. O Town. Mandy Moore. Christina Aguilera.

Back while she was still Xtina and not XXLtina (oh snap).

 Christina Aguleria then...

 ...and now.

But think about all the stuff that was terrible about the 90’s!

What if we still had to carry around cell phones the size of bricks? I’m delicate and fragile boned. I wouldn’t be able to carry a phone that size for more than a few minutes and then how would people get in touch with my about playing Pokemon? Those phones could barely receive a call let alone send texts, play Angry Birds, and surf the Internet—simultaneously!

 He's leaning on the wall because it is too heavy for him to physically stand up straight.

And speaking of the Internet… Did that even exist yet? Like can you imagine having a uber-serious question—like “why does Beyonce stay in Destiny’s Child even though she is better than everyone else?”—and not being able to Google it? What did people do before Google? It must have just been an intellectual dark age where people had to read the newspaper for movie times.

And step outside to check the weather.

And watch whole episodes of television WITH COMMERICALS without just watching the clip you want.

And any number of other little annoyances which would make me feel like I was living in a third-world country!

 The World: Pre-Internet

Let’s also not forget how absolutely terrible clothing was back then. (Just in case you’re confused, yes you are looking at pictures of people from the 90’s and yes, they do look very similar to the unwashed masses congregating in Brooklyn right now)

 Mmm. Windbreakers.

All in all, I’m not ready to declare life ennui yet. I mean, maybe once we get out of this decade, because I am super ready to talk about how much worse my life is without Laguna Beach and The Hills.

Don't cry, LC! We'll always have Paris. Oh wait. We won't because you blew it off to spend the summer with your deadbeat boyfriend. Haha. Sucks.

Don't You Forget About Me

One of my all-time favorite movies is The Breakfast Club.

Yes, yes, I know I’m supposed to pick Ferris Bueller’s Day Off as my favorite John Hughes movie but frankly, I’m a little sick of the whole “Buhler? Buhler? Ferris Buhler?” joke.

 We're not laughing.

There is just something about The Breakfast Club that I love. Maybe it’s the iconic sprinting-through-hallways-which-had-apparently-just-been-greased scene.

 Seriously, what floor is this slippery?

Maybe it’s the always-underrated Ally Sheedy and her gloriously repulsive dandruff move.

Or maybe it’s all of us pretending a ginger could be popular (just kidding to any ginger readers of this blog. Please don’t suck my soul)

 I'm so cool that I eat lukewarm sushi for lunch in detention.

Even with this un-paralleled awesomeness, there are a few things that really bother me about this movie.

First of all, these crimes are all across the board yet they all merit a Saturday detention? Molly Ringwald skipped class to go shopping while Anthony Michael Hall brought a flare gun to school. How are those two crimes comparable? Molly should have, at most, gotten after school detention or been forced to give up that terrible brown skirt. On the other hand, Anthony brought a weapon to school. How about we send him to counseling or suspend him or something?

 Ok, really? What's the deal with that skirt?

Secondly, what kind of detention has no adult supervision? You have some pretty serious juvenile delinquents here—including Judd Nelson who has a knife in his boot—and you leave them locked in a library all day by themselves? While Vernon is in his office playing with his food Judd Nelson is destroying the library, both girls are getting deflowered, and everyone is smoking weed.

I’m sure if I really searched my brain I could find some other stuff that drives me nuts about that movie but, I’ve really got to go (they just found a flare gun in my locker and I have to spend my Saturday in detention).

I’ll leave you with the immortal words of the nerdiest kid of the movie (the one who is stuck writing an essay in the library while his other four compatriots are getting it on in other locations of the school)

 And he wonders why he's the one stuck writing the essay

“Dear Mr. Vernon… We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong. What we did WAS wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make us writhe this essay telling you who we think we are, what do you care? You see us as you want to see us… in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, and athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Correct? That’s the way we saw each other at seven o’clock this morning. We were brainwashed.”

Also, whatever happened to Emilio Estevez?

If found, please return to Hollywood. I think we're about due for another Mighty Ducks movie.

My New Year's Resolution

Had I not been deathly ill last week (I’m still going through a box of Kleenex every 2 days, thanks for asking) I would have written about New Year’s resolutions and why I think they’re bull.

First, of course, I had to think about you, my pathetic precious little readers who hang on to every word I say. Everyday you strive to be like me, knowing it can never happen. Can you imagine the blow to your already fragile psyche if I made a change to myself putting myself even further out of your sites? I might as well just lead you to a ledge and push you off.

Then there is the necessary will power it takes to follow through on a New Year’s resolution. Let’s face it, if you’d talked to me on New Year’s Eve, I could have told you a bunch of things I was planning to do in the New Year but if I haven’t gotten around to it in the previous 365 days, what makes you think anything is going to change this time around? Simply put, I’m far too lazy to follow through on anything (other than blog writing and drinking copious amounts of Mountain Dew). And, simply put, most of you are too.

I’m not trying to discourage you from your lofty goals but… wait… nevermind. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. The best example I have of this is when I used to wake up every morning at 6 to go to morning swim practice (I know! I’m shocked that I wasn’t always a lazy piece of crap too!). I always hated going to practice right after the New Year because the parking lot was always packed with the cars of people who had resolved to work out. This meant that I had to park like, twenty feet further than I would have had to normally. Understandably, this made me fly into fits of rage, which resulted in a few totaled vehicles, a stint in juvie, and a simple assault charge.

 My roommate in juvie. Trust me. You don't want to get on her bad side.

But that’s neither here nor there.

To make a long story short, by March, the number of cars in the parking lot thinned back to their usual number showing that the one thing Americans are better at than anything (besides eating) is giving up and settling for mediocrity. If that’s the eventual result, why don’t we all just quit pretending and go straight to the finish line.

 This is the finish line.

That’s what I call being proactive.

The most important reason I don’t do New Year’s resolutions, though, is that I’m pretty f-ing awesome anyway. This goes beyond the old “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” It’s more like, “how do you do better than perfect?”

Well, as always, I hope you found this blog helpful.

Wait, just kidding. I really don’t care whether you did or not but I’m glad you wasted five minutes reading it.

Oh yeah, and Happy New Year. Best Wishes. Good Luck. Go get ‘em champ.

Or whatever crap you’re supposed to say.

Back Off, I'm Sick

*cough* *cough* I think I’m developing the black lung!

Yep, that’s right. I’ve been deathly ill for the past few days. I’m not a doctor but I either have SARS

Or a common cold.

Either way, I didn’t have a chance to dictate a new blog from my deathbed.

Check back next week instead.