It’s the fiiiiiiinaaaal countdown

I read an article this morning that added more fuel to the fire that is Stacey’s Paranoia: Apocalypse/End of the World Division (fyi: all my paranoia has been neatly categorized and organized for more convenient panic attacks…and yes, I would make it all into a powerpoint presentation with graphs and piecharts if I knew how to do powerpoint). The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists have this doomsday clock they use as a symbol of an imminent apocalypse ( I wish I was making this shit up) and will be deciding at 1 PM EST today if they will nudge it forward towards humanity’s inevitable destruction.

How’s that for something to mull over your morning caffeine fix? I know I’m WIDE awake now.

Currently the clock is at 6 minutes to midnight and is calculated by looking at the current state of nuclear weapons, climate change and biosecurity, along with other issues that could influence humanity's survival. Are we really only 6 minutes (figuratively) from the brink of total destruction?? I would have thought it was only about 9:46 or so. Either someone is even more paranoid than me and has their finger hovering over that big red button that will make everything go boom or this is a government conspiracy in conjunction with the media and corporations like Walmart to throw us all in a panic so we run out and buy a bunch of shit we don’t need in order to make ourselves feel better and give us a false sense of security.

Either way, someone needs to calm the hell down, because the new season of Jersey Shore just started last week and it is completely imperative we don’t explode in a nuclear fireball until I find out if Snooki’s boyfriend finally gets clued in that she did have sex with the Situation.

I may be paranoid but I still have priorities, you know.

I don’t speak Internet Hipster

Thanks to technology (insert sarcasm here. Because I hate technology. And I’m saying that as I type this from my laptop while checking my Blackberry for messages. So also insert hypocrisy here) the English language has been subverted by hipsters, computer geeks and 15 year-olds into something that resembles letter vomit if you aren’t in the know. Screw a regular dictionary (not really recommended anyway because of the pointy edges and potential for papercuts in delicate areas)…you need the Urban Dictionary to translate this shit.

One of my other blogs is on tumblr and about 63% of the time I have no clue what anyone is talking about.  I follow mainly humour blogs mostly written by college students stoned on Red bull and Adderall/30 year old mouth-breathers living in their mom’s basements/hip people who take pictures of their lunch with their Instagram (who cares it was “taken with an Instagram”? It’s a pic of your pad thai, not the Mona Lisa, you pretentious asshat). Most of the posts don’t have much writing (if any) to them…they’re usually pics the poster has cleverly captioned or reblogged and added their 2 cents to, which is why I have a blog there in the first place…to use as my messed up pic repository

Anyway this techno geek tribe has their own language and I’ll be f-ed if I can figure out what they’re saying. And when I do on occasion figure it out I feel all smug and self-satisfied until I remember I’m a 40 years old who has no clue who Crystal Castles or Mac Miller are and don’t care either. It took about 9 months to decipher “gpoy” (great picture of yourself) so I figure another 4 years and I’ll know what
”ASG ASDFBASBNAEFDVSZ “ or “adljghjadgs” means (and I’m not kidding that those letters mean something…I just copied and pasted it off a post). I do however now know why Rick Santorum is being referred to as Assfroth (SpreadingSantorum…gooogle it), bacon is it’s own food group (like there was ever any doubt) and that you can’t help but say “Stap it Rahn Yer Trahmahtizing Meh” in your own head and not say it in Sammi Sweetheart’s voice, which is funny and totally annoying at the same time. So I figure I’m coming out ahead, knowledge-wise in the end