¡Ay!

While I was off tearing up my rib cartilage (seriously) trying to surf (on water, not a volcano), I missed a whole bunch of e-sh*t going down up here. But thank heavens for two days of office-based work because that has given me ample time to catch up on all things virtual. And in honor of my remedial Spanish, which I'm pretty sure became even more remedial in Nicaragua when I pronounced "al ajillo" (with garlic) in a similar manner as Napolean Dynamite pronounced "quesadilla" in his eponymous film, we're going to review the last few days of Internet action by using a bit of Spanish. ¡Vámonos!

Uno! I've gushed about how much I adore DC-area music blog Half A Person before (not to mention how in awe I am that the young woman behind it, Nina, is only 16, or as they say in Spanish, dieciséis, which I probably would pronounce "dicey-says" like a common jackass), so I will refrain from re-typing my words of praise. However, I must extend my e-kudos to her new Brightest Young Things column, in which she defends the virtues of Top 40 hits. In her latest foray, she takes on Lady GaGa's No. 1 2 hit, "Just Dance." Nina's review of the lyrics strangely made me be able to stand this song, which is musically super-sh*tty. (I believe that is the technical term, anyway.) The point is, after reading her analysis, I'm now excited to bring my rape whistle to the club tonight!

Dos! But speaking of rape (because, it seems, that's what Lady GaGa's song is about), my friend Socrates Johnson of India Poop Blog fame and I coined a new phrase this week...on Facebook -- "gang rape face." We got the idea from a rather perplexing public sign he stumbled upon somewhere in India. Seriously, the look on that chimp's face is rather unsettling, no? Behold, gang bang face.


Tres! And while I've taken to making sure I am sporting "gang rape face" in response to nearly everything I find unsettling (which, in DC, means I'm making that face nearly 98 percent of my waking hours), a group of new advertisements begging teenagers to stop saying the phrase, "That's so gay," has me making more of a confused scowl, or what I like to think of as the, "Wait, there's actually a campaign out there that thinks they can stop teenagers from saying mildly offensive, idiotic sh*t?" face. So, let me get this straight (pun intended), someone's actually spending cash-money on this? Have we forgotten that teenagers (save for Nina) are by default obnoxious assholes? I predict this campaign to change teenage slang will go over just about as well as Lady GaGa releasing a successful single that's not about date rape. In other words, MASSIVE FAIL. Although, I must admit, I, too, am ready to have "That's so gay" dropped from common lexicon. I much prefer the phrase, "That's so homo." It's got a better ring to it and it's a nice catchall, as "homo" could very well refer to all homo sapiens, not just homosexuals or really happy people. "That's so homo" is so multipurpose, in fact, that it can denote both good and bad because there are both good and bad people. For example, Hitler is so homo (bad, but not in the Michael Jackson way). On the other hand, Samwell is so homo (good, but also in a homosexual way). I can only pray that you people think this blog is at least slightly homo, in a good, possibly even Samwell kind of way. What what!

Quatro! Speaking of "What What In the Butt" (see "Samwell" link above), I've been lucky enough to stay out of the downtown DC area for nearly three weeks now since I've been spending the majority of my time thinking up new groups of people to offend on The Anti DC as I begin to slowly and painfully dismantle the leftover landmine that is this blog. (It's only a matter of time before this e-space either ends up on a terrorist watch list or simply disappears as if nothing was ever here.) But it turns out that there's some kind of "inauguration" happening in the coming weeks. It sounds horrible, at least to why.i.hate.dc, which has morphed into a pretty sweet blog in the last couple of weeks.

Cinqo! Last and certainly least, as this has nothing to do with anything I found on the Interbuttz, I want to share with you virtually what I was lucky enough to experience in real life last week and I'm not referring to torn rib cartilage. Despite the lack of serious pain that let's you know you did good, I'm certain that you will still find what I have to share "so homo," perhaps even "so super homo." Beirut's "Postcards from Italy" is the perfect song to listen to while watching the sun set over the Pacific on the Nicaraguan coast with an ice cold brew in hand (and torn rib cartilage).



Have a homo weekend, everyone!