Archive | May, 2011

Recommendation Wednesdays!

4 May

Welcome to the newest addition to Pam’s Weird Lyfe  –

Recommendation Wednesdays!

I’ve never been much for writing album reviews, mostly because I find no pleasure in fighting over music. There’s no point in trying to prove that a band is good or bad. So rather than boring you with essays like “Green Day Sucks; A biased review of a band that gets way too much criticism”, I’m just going to suggest cool music to you!

This week’s featured album:

Jeah!

Sharky-Shark, Tanky-Tank

…Shark Tank! 

If you’re anything like me, you’ve been waiting your whole life for a rap supergroup as white as this. Shark Tank comprises a potpourri of rappers – Height and Mickey Free (Baltimore-ballers), Lord Grunge (Pittsburgh-crooner) and B. Rich (King of Kingston, Ontario).

As much as I want to deny it, “Oh No” is my absolute favorite track from this album. I feel like it really showcases each member of the group – and it’s also just silly as hell which, if I’m assuming correctly, is a lot of what Shark Tank is about. Still, more serious jams like “I Can’t See It” are awesome too. Grunge just takes off on this track so hard. The beats are awesome. The hook is awesome. I love it.

You can listen to Shark Tank’s album for fuckin’ free, because they’re cool like that, right here: http://sharktank.bandcamp.com/

I also HIGHLY recommend you check out the sexy-as-hell video for “Don’t Shoot”:

Jeah.

Pams are pretty!

3 May

ATTENTION: EVERYONE

 The year is 2011. Two-thousand-and-eleven. Twenty-eleven. Twenty-aught-eleven. Whatever way you pronounce it, it is the future! I am 24 years old (I originally typed “23”, and had to think about it for a minute; is this a sign of aging?) and livin’ this big ole’ weird lyfe to the fullest extent. I wake up every morning, look at myself in the mirror and say “Whoa! Look at you! You’re the prettiest lady!” just like the rest of you. Right, ladies? Right?

Ooh la la!

I'm the prettiest of ladies.

I wish it were that easy. Like a lot of women, unfortunately, I am more inclined to to look in the mirror and see –

”]”]Gwaaaah!(Damn it, even the model in the “ugly” picture is pretty.)

But sometimes I just feel like the ugliest girl in the whole world! Please hold your “you’re beautiful”s and “shut up, Pam”s until the end of the post. I know a lot of people feel the same way, probably more frequently than I do, so in no way is this a cry for people to tell me how gorgeous I am. Which I am. I’m the prettiest princess.

As if I’m the first person to say this – society/culture/friends/assholes are constantly setting people up to feel crappy about themselves. It’s not always intentional; actually, it usually isn’t intentional at all. Like when a co-worker says something about “well, that’s just the way you’re built!” or if a little kid asks what’s all over your face – never intentional. But people, like Pams, can be sensitive to statements about their appearance. Probably because they feel like their appearance has defined who they are their entire lives.

And in a lot of ways, I do feel like that. What’s more important than what someone looks like?

When you really think about it…there’s a whole lot that’s more important. Unless you’re trying to identify a body, there’s really no reason to absolutely know and examine how someone looks. I’ve spent my entire adult (and most of my adolescent) life comparing myself to the gorgeous girls who effortlessly have perfect complexions and can slip into weird tube top dress things. And then, something amazing happened.

I met this really really gorgeous girl. She took my breath away the first time I met her, honestly. Every time I saw her subsequently, it was like being in the same room as a movie star – I was being pretty gay about the whole thing.

My friends agreed. “Yeah, dude, she’s THE HOTTEST GIRL IN THE WUUUUURLD” [sic] they would sing! But as it turns out…

*cricket chirp*

…they don’t care. Nobody cares. My boyfriend doesn’t care. My JJ doesn’t care. You know what really matters in life? Being secure enough in the looks your parents gave to you, to the point that you can operate on a daily basis without thinking you’re a fat piece of, well, gross stuff.

Having friends that actually care about you is important!

(And I have one million of them!)

Spending time on things other than your looks is important!

(This includes actions and thoughts!)

Exploring more hobbies than naked hula hooping is important!

(Actually a real hobby, so I’ve found!)

This might sound like a lecture to you, but it’s really just a lecture to me. So that I stop worrying about my looks all the time 😀

I AM A PRETTY PAM.

temporary tatz

Even when I'm making this dumb face.


Time is a thing that happens daily

3 May

In elementary school, teachers were obsessed with the ideas of timelines. It felt like we were forever sketching timelines of famous peoples’ lives, or particularly interesting periods in history, or a day in the life of a pet. Personally, I never tried to apply that logic to my own life; at least, not beyond college.

Life didn’t exist beyond college, at least not in a realistic sense. I planned on marriage, kids, milestones or whatever, but not in any great detail. Or even a little detail. But as soon as I earned the last of my college credits, I had the strangest feeling. It’s like when Wile E. Coyote walks off the edge of a cliff, but doesn’t fall until he realizes where he is – a good five seconds after the fact.

In real life, my cliff was college. The five seconds felt more like…a year. I looked down, realized it was all over, and hilarity ensued.

Actually, it was poop for awhile. My first couple of months post-graduating were…less than enthused. Like the genius I’ve always been, I willingly agreed to work mornings at Dunkin’ Donuts. I lived in my parents’ attic. When I wasn’t pouring coffee, I was slouched in front of the computer in my pajamas, scouring the internet for anything that slightly resembled a job; personal assistant, dog-walker, freelance porn editor…on second thought, why did I never pursue freelance porn editor?!

But my life has made a major shift in that one year. I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on my past – a thing which I’ve held onto dearly for, well, forever. If I’ve ever snapped a photo of you and smiled, then you know that I have a hard time letting go of the past. If you’ve seen my ticket stub and random-box-of-memories collections, you know I have a really hard time letting go of the past. I want to remember everything exactly as it happened. As I’ve found, though, it seems like I’ve remembered a lot of unnecessary bullshit. Case in point:

The green-tiled floor looked like it was moving from how many dust bunnies had accumulated on it. They danced around with ease, thanks to the open windows behind me. It was the fourth grade, and I was sitting in class with my class and our teacher, Mrs. Strawoet. I sat, uncomfortably, in a stiff and prickly wooden chair while she lectured on about math or verbs or something. When all of a sudden…

“Mrs. Strawoet…”

An interruption. Finally, something to free me from this horribly boring and detestably lulling cl-

“…my nose is bleeding…”

EWWWWW. I switched my gaze to see a dark red stream of blood seeping from Sean Pierce’s left nostril. Fucking sick.

“Oh my! Children, just stay in your seats, we’ll take care of this,” Mrs. Strawoet so politely explained as she hurried Sean over to the garbage can. I guess the garbage can doubles as Nosebleed Station when you’re in the fourth grade.

The seconds ticked by like hours. How long does a nosebleed take to heal? Are they just going to stand there and wait for it to be done? I wonder if it’s just blood coming out, or maybe part of his BRAINS are coming out? I can just look in the garbage can when they’re done, just to make sure there’s no brains… man, I wish I could see that blood up close, though, like, right now. There’s gotta be brains or something worthwhile in there to make them freak out so much over this nosebleed. I just need an excuse to go up there…”

Without hesitation, I rolled up a piece of paper and stood up to toss it into the garbage can. I guess I just really wanted to be involved in all the commotion. What a mistake.

“PAM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DO YOU SERIOUSLY NEED TO THROW THAT AWAY RIGHT NOW? DON’T YOU SEE SEAN’S NOSE IS BLEEDING? GO SIT DOWN!”

For 15 years, that day has haunted me. Tons of things from my childhood haunt me. I was an idiot. Like this one time during a orchestra concert, when I put a bunch of little toys on my music stand because I had seen other little girls do it. Only they put one or two little trinkets on there. I put my entire Littlest Pet Shop collection on it. And of course, when I turned a page too quickly…

Oh, God...no...

Woopsie!

…my instructor was super-pissed. I can’t remember her name at the moment…Mrs…Scanley? Scanlon? Scantron? Oh well. Regardless, she screamed at me for awhile about embarrassing her and making a fool out of the whole production, yadda yadda yadda, and I never played a flute again!

Just kidding. THE POINT IS, no matter what has gone on in my life, however mortifying or life-ending it seemed at the time, I’m glad I’ve remembered it. I didn’t worry about my future when I was a kid. I’m not saying I don’t need to worry about it now, but I definitely don’t need to feel guilty for not worrying about it.

If I make minimum wage for the rest of my life, time will still exist.

If I never get married and never have a family, time will still exist.

Even if I die tomorrow in a deliciously-tragic ice cream accident; time will still exist. Life will go on. The world will be okay. The people I love and care about will be okay.

Meow!

C:

And that is why I’m not going to worry about it anymore.