"I saw Barack Obama touching people..""

I love Joe Biden, and no less so for the quote so cleverly featured in the title of this entry.

No, but seriously, I am embarrassed to admit that I, like the people allegedly touched by Mr. Obama, am experiencing strange warm feelings throughout the course of this Democratic convention. My cool, cynical, Facebook-ready third person outer narrator is ashamed, but my secret inner flag-saluting patriot is sticking feathers in her cap and calling them Macaroni. In other words, I am moved.

I do eventually want to see an America where more than just two parties dominate national and local politics, but for now I am finally excited about one of those two actually doing something in any way positive.

PLEASE VOTE OBAMA/BIDEN in 2008!!!

blogger's clog

I believe a particularly lazy (see: typical) psychiatrist would diagnose this general malaise and listlessness as depression, but that's really not the case. I am not unable to experience joy. I have happy little moments every day. I make clever observations about the world and smugly nod at my own wittiness on the hour, like weather and traffic. It's when it comes down to expressing it in here, oh my dear weblog, that my stubborn proud nature forces me to look the sad truth in the face: what's the damn point and who cares? Doing the weekly radio show has been satisfying my need for a cathartic ritual of mental diarrhea, but even that is starting to gnaw at my better senses. People only care about what you think if they think it can make them seem more important and special by caring about you think. Nowadays people rarely allow themselves to have a philosophical dialogue or intellectual connection with another human being unless she/he is getting paid handsomely for holding the views she/he holds. People always talk about how democratized communication has become with the advent of the Internet, but let's face it: even the "blogosphere" is becoming highly commercialized and neatly packaged. The most popular blogs discuss the most superficial aspects of the human experience: video games, TV shows, the latest fashions, politics - consumer products, basically. Philosophy seems to be dead. Every time I walk into a book store in search of some hidden nugget of mental inspiration, I walk away disappointed. Just more motivational, self-help, new age garbage lines the shelves, and everyone seems to be aboard the "this is the way things should be" train. It isn't the world that's dysfunctional. It's YOU. That's the message the powers that be send us, and on my worst days, I almost buy in.

But I for one have always questioned the fundamental structure of society and how it evolved into the mess we live in now. I just wish I had access to people who shared my desire to discuss and dissect the nature of things without being ridiculed as being pretentious. I'm just a curious, wide-eyed girlchild, lost in a sea of scary angry men.

There is one person who gives me hope.

http://www.alaindebotton.com/

People who think for thinking's sake still exist.

And now it's time to watch the Democratic convention.

Podcasts for Sunday 08-03-2008

Check out Sunday's show if you missed it!

Segment 1:

http://www.switchpod.com/users/mariyaalexander/08032008TheMariyaAlexanderShow1.mp3

Segment 2:

http://www.switchpod.com/users/mariyaalexander/08032008TheMariyaAlexanderShowPt2.mp3


Spank you very much!

cerebral flatulence

I could have sworn that just last week summer was beginning. Where has the time gone? Where? I have yet to enjoy even a single day of good-old-fashioned summer fun in the sun. So to make up for all the skin cancer I may not have been getting, I went to the tanning salon twice in the past month. I am a shallow ass-hole of a person, because I like myself so much more when I am tan and even-toned. The Semitic beak on my face still bothers me, but at least I've got my killer personality. Just the other day, in fact, I killed an entire army of invading ants. I can't believe I can love animals so much and hate insects that much more, especially ants. They're just like people. They capture slaves, they farm other insects, they serve a big bloated dictator and fulfill their societal roles without any forethought.
Did I mention I am actually in a great mood? There is clearly no reason for it, for I am still me, and I still hate this sick sad world, but yet I flash myself saucy smiles every time I pass a mirror. I am like a freakin' martyr, I swear - a shining example of laughing in the face of absurdity and unfulfilled expectations!

I am busier than ever. I'm tired. I'm giddy. I'm excited.

I'm ronery.

I miss my friends.

Thank you Jeebus for not letting Twitch get voted off of "So You Think You Can Dance"!

Speaking of lively competition, has anyone seen this yet:
http://www.japanesebugfights.com/ ?

It's morbidly addictive.

Speaking of other morbid things, check out my show Sunday at 1 PM!!!

Listen every Sunday at 1 here: http://stations.swcast.net/urbancowgirl777

Also, I am looking for a new book to read. After finishing the magical "The Testament of Gideon Mack" and the disturbing "Lolita", I am pondering my next literary adventure. Suggestions?

Irony Deficiency

I am sitting in a windowless dungeon of a room somewhere in the depths of the building housing my precious WJFK. My job is officially called "content editor" but more humorously referred to as "the dumper". Little do they know as they joke in this manner that dumping is something I take very seriously, usually while reading classic literature or solving sophisticated crossword puzzles. In any case this is an awkward position for me because while I understand my duties, I can't help feeling strange about having to essentially censor people at the precise moment that they're actually saying something interesting and provocative. So much for the land of the free and the home of the brave when silly little words like "penis", "vagina", "boobies", "handjob" and the like must be guarded against with the same vigilance we're dedicating to fighting global terror... Which is another crock of buttered excrement, if we're on the topic, which we're not...

Had a barbecue at mother-in-law's yesterday. Had a lovely discussion (and I use the term "lovely" very loosely) about the dangers of letting gay couples adopt children. Even the 84-year-old grandma chimed in, purely in Greek, to denounce the effect of those toxic gays on poor impressionable young minds. My husband and I attempted to stand up for our homo loving ways, but were outnumbered, so eventually just gave up. To drive the point home - that theirs is a red-blooded, all-American BBQ - several people tried to feed us skirt steak, even going so far as to hold it hopefully in front of our faces. We did not break. We pursed our lips indignantly and munched on the chickpeas and portabellos and potato salad we filled our plates with. There were also crabs and shrimp, and while I tried to partake in that, it was difficult. The shrimp were too big and too meaty, and I was unable to suppress my feelings of empathy for the poor dead creatures. And just imagine how horrible the steamed crabs were! I saw their guts and their gills, and realized once and for all that I'd effectively killed the carnivore instinct inside of me. I used to love munching on ribs and chicken bones, sucking the juices and meat shreds down my throat, but now the idea of it really troubles me. I am made of the same meat and bones as all those other critters, and I don't think I would smile upon being devoured in an orgiastic feast, being boiled alive! My addiction to baked sole filets and smoked salmon will be hard to break, but I'm seriously considering stopping it all together. Then I will be 99% vegan. I doubt I'll ever give up eggs. I'm not a masochist, after all.

In other great news, children's thongs are now on the market and available for mass consumption!

And for those blood-thirsty devils among you, check this out:

Japanesebugfights.com

It was featured in this Maxim magazine left for me in my "editing" cell.

Show Outline

I suppose the best way forward is the truth. They say that it's supposed to set you free, and though that has never been the case in my own life, I'm willing to give it a shot on the air tomorrow to entertain the masses. And by masses, I mean the 5-10 people who listen to my ramblings every Sunday. Whatever. The past however long has been a blur punctuated by various noteworthy yet utterly insignificant events, and by god, I will share them with you whether you like it or not!

First and foremost, what the hell was I thinking agreeing to work at 6 AM at WJFK tomorrow morning?! I was so eager to please, and so stupidly flattered by the offer of some ungodly, unwanted by anyone hours, that I blindly agreed to work them, and now I will enjoy another red-eyed, suicidal day. Everyone at the station congratulated me upon the end of my internship last week when they found out I'd be coming back for part-time work, but what did those congratulations really mean coming from the lips of on-air talent? "Congratulations! I'm very glad that I will never have to deal with your unsettling presence again, you stupid girl. Go and sulk in the background, operating machinery and feeling grateful for even being here like the rest of our happy-go-lucky board-ops."
Well the only problem is that I am delusional, and know in my heart of hearts that I am deserving of respect and glory, god dammit. I don't want to develop the pallor and passivity endemic in the radio techie race. I am a talent! Sure I may not have any movie films to review, and sure I am not a flamboyant homosexual boy with soft hips... but I love to talk into big black microphones all the same. If I were gearing up to do that at 6 AM tomorrow morning, I'd be happy. Instead I'll have to yawn my way through 6 long hours of playing other people's pre-recorded shows from CD's and making sure all the commercials play at the right times. THEN I'll have to drive down the street to another, lesser known, broadcasting facility, where I will have to conduct The Mariya Alexander Show bitter, tired and alone, heard by almost no one.

Since I haven't had the time or energy to book any guests, or plan any of what they refer to in the entertainment industry as "bits", my plan for tomorrow's show is going to be an honest hard look at my sad little life. Much like in the real thing, I will be alone. The room will be dimly lit, a little cold and musty. My hair will be a wild mess, and my thoughts will flow out over the cable and internet "air" waves like the pungent smells wafting through a hallway of an apartment building heavily populated by ethnic peoples. Like those odors, my words will disturb and displease many, but will be noticed and remarked upon by any who come across them.

Talking points for tomorrow's show:

1) First ever photography commission leaves me paralyzed by fear and sheer awkwardness, as it was given to me by very friendly, younger acquaintance of husband who creates these types of situations to cement a stronger friendship between us and him and his significant other (We like them anyway, is the thing)

2) Working at a hair salon has made me begin to rethink my whole "women are just as cool and funny and smart as men" stance. I can at least say with certainty that the current generation of late 40-somethings to 60-year-olds are forged in the depths of hell by Satan herself. Not that it really matters, but I am prepared to name names and reveal the most awful perpetrators of crimes against youth and beauty.


3) Emotionally ill loved ones - how to cope when you can't get dope. (AKA The split personality husband)

4) Proactiv - another gimmick that left me with huge painful zits bubbling under the surface of my tortured skin.

5) Being a size 0 but still managing to have fatty thighs and calves. What the hell?

6) Paying someone for the chance to do a migrant laborer's day's work in the strawberry fields: the benefits there of.

7) Feeling lonely and isolated even in the cyberworlds of MySpace and Facebook.... How does one throw decency and consideration out the window and boldly coerce people into doing what you want them to do?

All that and much much more on this week's edition of
"The Mariya Alexander Show"!!!!!

Listen live, Sundays at 1 PM!

http://stations.swcast.net/urbancowgirl777

DC Comedy

Blessed be the baby Jesus for letting me get out of work early today and take advantage of this beautiful, sunny day dedicated to the tragic demise of many fallen war heroes. I honestly can't believe how many people I heard saying "Happy memorial day!" to one another today. It's disgusting.

But since I don't care about people or memorials or wars, I'm getting ready for the first official outing with my newly 21-year-old sister. We're going to hit up an open mic comedy night in Adams Morgan, hosted by some of the lovely folks from http://dccomedy4now.blogspot.com . I am desperately trying to cling onto the few acquaintances I've managed to make in the DC comedy scene, because let's face it, if there is any scene to be a part of, the comedy scene is the only one where you can actually make fun of people for being pretentious, so I like it. The rave scene, my former stomping ground, was full of phonies (myself included), but no one was too keen on having that pointed out.

Comedy rules. Maybe if I get drunk enough I'll get up and say a few disparaging words about myself.... outloud this time.