Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Friendship is Magic

Yesterday morning, after waking up and running on the dusty treadmill in my garage while watching Sex and the City (I figured staring at attractive women and the sexy men they seduce would motivate me...turns out all it did was remind me that I'm not getting any) I grabbed a protein shake and rushed to my early morning Astronomy class. I chose to take astronomy because it was the ONLY science class I figured I could pass. I imagined casually sitting in a lecture hall, listening to a hippie-esque teacher (think Professor Trelawney from Harry Potter) talking about stars, the constellations, and intelligent life on other planets. I was disappointed to find out that not only was my teacher NOT a meditating, weed smoking, hippy from Hogwarts (he's bald with a goatee and used to be in a metal band) but that we would NOT gather around and lay under the night stars contemplating life, we would be reading...and doing MATH. Not my best subject. The only class I have ever excelled at in math was Geometry my freshman year of high school. And that was because my teacher was 22, cute, and gave me extra credit for dressing up as Arwen from LOTR. I am an English student, an actor, and a dancer. I am not a mathematician or a scientist. 
Anyways, I got to class early and stood outside the door with some other students, waiting for our Professor to arrive. A group of broners (bro/stoners) were standing close to me, drinking Monster energy drinks and grunting some form of language that I'm sure only other broners can understand. In between obcenities and monkey noises, I happened to overhear a conversation. The littlest broner (that could be a movie on ABC family) was about 5'3'' with a faux hawk and gauges as big as my fist. (Why gauges have become a hip and trendy piercing I will NEVER know. The huge puppy dog ears have never quite struck me as a "sexy look"). And with a monster in one hand, while he pulled his sagging pants up with the other he uttered the last phrase I thought i would ever hear out of a broner's mouth; 

"Hey dudes, did you watch My Little Pony the other day?"


To say I was intrigued would be an understatement. I stepped a little closer, put on my sunglasses, and grabbed my phone so I could pretend to text someone, while I eavesdropped on their conversation. I stood there in shock and awe as these four grown men continued to discuss not only the plot of the most recent episode of My Little Pony, but their favorite characters. One of them even called himself a "broney". Were these boys really serious? Or was "My Little Pony" code word for some weird Russian porn? After class I decided to do some research. 

Not only are the new My Little Ponies collecting a huge male fan base, but the new concept of the show has become it's own meme online. 4chan is filling up with discussions containing screen shots of the show to the point where the administrators are banning My Little Pony discussions from their site. I also learned that males who watch the show are called either "Bronies" or (even weirder) "Colts". I'm serious, look it up. It's the most bizarre thing ever. 
What could draw grown men to such an obscure non-manly show? I mean, I'm not going to judge. To each his own, whatever floats your boat and all that jazz. But really? Maybe it's the effect of America's newest job issues. There's less jobs for teens trying to raise money and get out of the house, and a huge increase in the cost of college tuition. All this pressure really makes you just want to go home to mama. I can't blame someone for wanting to feel like a kid again. But still...ponies?
In the bronies' defense, the new show is pretty entertaining. The writers and animators both came from past shows such as The Powerpuff Girls and Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, shows that I happened to love as a kid (I actually just watched The Powerpuff Girls last week). Ponies is bright and colorful with lots of rainbows and sparkles. And I'm sure watching it high would probably be fan-freaking-tastic. So I say, go forth and watch you little Bronies. I would rather walk in on my boyfriend watching My Little Pony than weird Russian porn any day. But the day he asks to borrow my Pony dolls...that's where I draw the line. 




Monday, September 5, 2011

Putting a name to the face...

I have always been one of those people who could never quite put their thoughts into words.
Or at least put their thoughts into intelligent words.
They stay in my head, dancing around, fully content to be where they are.

Come on thoughts! (I say to myself) Get out there! You're really witty and funny I swear! Now just settle down and form coherent sentences for Christ's sake!!!

But even with all the prodding and poking, my thoughts just settle down in their lazy-boy recliners, grab some fiery hot Cheetos, and turn on America's Next Top Model.

Are you kidding? (my thoughts say) What if we come out and make a fool of ourselves? You know we are only witty and funny in your head. I think we'll just stay in here. Besides, have you seen what Tyra is wearing?! That bitch be crazy!!

Because of my unexplained silence I have been called: shy, quiet, introverted, emotional, unintelligent, and (my favorite) a bitch who thinks she's better than everyone else.
So in order to set the record straight, save my thoughts from the horrors of obesity (fiery hot Cheetos are full of empty calories), and create a space for myself to rant, I decided to start my own blog.
So without further ado...

This is the completely unedited,  horribly honest, and wonderfully witty account of my day to day life. 
Some names have been changed in order to protect the identities of parties involved. Except for my mom, Carol. She gave birth to me, she took care of me, she made me the woman I am today, and I think she should take the full blame for what she has created. Also, like most of the adults from her generation, she doesn't really know how to use the internet. 

My name is JillFace

Welcome to my head :)