Girls are stupid.

Why are girls stupid? I don't know. I'm not one. But I have cause to believe they are after witnessing the phenomenon known as purse shopping today in Knightsbridge- home to not only one megafancy London department store (Harrod's) but two (Harvey Nichols), oh and the streets filled with Chanel, Hermes, Versace, etc stores. Mumsy took me to Harrod's aka People Palace (thats what I call it because its basically the Palace of Versailles turned into the world's fanciest department store PACKED with people). Anyway, my mum got bitten by the purse shopping bug and made me watch her as she tried on every single bag (all which looked exactly the same to my untrained, un-femmed eye) in the 3 gigantic rooms they sold them from floor to ceiling. It was basically every (straight) man's version of the Inferno. So much so that the outside of Harrod's should read: "To the gentlemen: Abandon All Hope, All Ye Who Enter this Realm." It was painful. And it didn't stop there, mummy made me go to the slightly less obnoxious Harvey Nichol's store. 2 hours of mumsy asking me which bags I liked and if they looked good on her. It was like something from Will&Grace. Now I know why my high school english teacher inquired if I were gay (despite my struggles with those purse-loving dorks, I'm still straight as an arrow, Mr. Brown!). Anyway, my mother finally settled on a fine bag and I was set free of my misery and off to tea (scones rule!).

I simply cannot fathom what makes purses so cool. I mean really! What's the answer here? High heels, I can see. They make you taller, they serve a function. Make-up, OK. It hides how grusome you really look, I get it (By the way, tip to all girls, stop wearing so damn much make-up. You're going to a party, you're not in a Broadway musical!). But really! They're leather cavities for you to hold your shit in. It's not that great. Most of them look like worn out bowling bags anyway, just with an extra pocket and a braid here and there. They're so big, you lose most of the worthless crap your hoarde in there to begin with. Know what? The girl who wins my heart says "fuck it" to the whole purse thing and carries a wallet like me, keys and iPod in a jean pocket. No need for a purse. I'm fully aware if I keep this promise, I'll end up marrying a lesbian, but that's cool. At least I'll never have to go purse shopping.

Its my last night in London before I go back to Ann Arbor in the morning. I hate the plane ride, maybe they'll sit me by a pretty girl again like they did on my way here. Only this time I'll have the bravery to actually say something, unlike last time's 7 hour worldless debacle. Keep your fingers crossed! Oh, who am I kidding, I'll be parked next to a fat guy. Always happens. Damn.

Oh, PS, Happy New Year!

PPS I think I love Kylie Minogue.

Mann Quad

So, I was on the tube (the London underground system for you uncultured freaks. Was that snobby of me? Good!) Anyway, my stepfather turns to me and asks me out of the blue, if I make a billion dollars in the future would I donate to the University of Michigan, this after having given half of it to my mom and him (I was laughing so hard on the inside, I think I broke a testacle). Anywho, after a good 20 seconds of debate, I figured yes, should everything go as planned and I make a billion dollars I'd donate to UofM; however, like any other pretentious snob, I'd desire a building named in my honor, preferably with a statue of my likeness erected in front of it. Which got me wondering which buidling I'd like to be named after me. I dislike the libraries, I'm not an academic anyway, so they're out (PS, it'd then be named the Ugli Mann. Hell no.) The law quad is cool, but those geeks sued the school so that we can't have any snow days, so fuck that. Then I came with an interesting thought. West Quad will hence forth come to be known as 'Mann Quad.' How great would that be? Where do you live? I live in Macho House (formerly Cambridge House), Mann Quad. Sweet. Oh, and our whimpy neighbors across Madison will no longer be known as South Quad, but rather Pussy Village.

Speaking of whimps, I cried in a movie today. It happens a lot, I must admit. I saw The Kite Runner which is all parts pretty, damn good, and pretty damn emotional. A great movie, just pack your tissues, its THAT kind of film. Oh, and don't take my mother. She'll talk through it and ruin important parts because she's read the book and you (and I) haven't!

I'd say I'm going on a diet when I get back to Ann Arbor because I've eaten every rich food known to the planet in the past two weeks without working out (no gym membership and its FREEZING outside), yet it'll be more like a quest to get my body back down to at least 185 lbs, aka my high school weight...during the parts that I was thin in high school, very funny you bastards. Anyway, if anyone would like to join me on the quest let me know, I'll save some vegetables for you.

Two Brilliant Ideas from 12/29/07

For those of you who haven't heard my ponifications upon the subject of old people, I'll both spare you and fill you in by making long story, short. They smell, they're slow, they drive poorly, they have no idea about anything technological, aaaaand, well....did I mention they smell? It's a big one. Anyway, the why isn't necessarily important. The important thing is that they're an inconvience and also a hazzard. They're like crappy old versions of stuff that still exists and no one really wants to deal with anymore. Like un-referbished automobiles where the gears are rusted and it makes an awful noise and you just dunno what to do with it. Except old people you can't just tke off to the dump. Which got me thinking.

Mom took me to Kew Gardens (a gigantic park west of London) to see an outdoor art exhibition (who says I'm uncultured!? "Butler, do get my champagne, smoking pipe and Hunter's Weekly this instant!"). Anyway, I noticed, as I usually do, that seniors got a hefty 2 pound discount (4 american dollars!). Well, I don't know why it didn't occur to me before, but what the fuck!? Why do old people get a discount?? We're encouraging these archaic relics? I'm not the one that stinks up the place with old people fart. And I drive...well, I know how to use the internet. From now on, we're charging old people 10 pounds more and thats the whole of it. Oh, and they have to give piggy back rides on demand. If they have new hearts and hips and knees and who knows what else, why should I walk around on my 20 year old babies? When I'm the leader of the freeworld, senior discounts will become an abominable concept forever done away with like Uggs and gafilta fish.

Idea No. 2! I finally figured out what to do with my divorced parents when my step parents sadly pass away before them! Both my mother and father (who don't get along) say that I have to take care of them, which to this point I've been uncomfortable with. Yet, I've found as practical solution as any as noted above. I will force them to live in my basement like a couple of trolls only to find out that they cannot leave and must kill the other in order to survive- a la Alien Versus Predator. Of course, my father will be the alien (not a shocker) and my mother will be the predator (definately not a surprise). Call me crazy, but I like it. Plus, it creates a tragic, yet ironic storybook ending to one of their lives that would surely make a cheesy Hollywood blockbuster producer proud. Son of the year? I think so! The only thing to decide now is what to do with the champion...I'm thinking retirement home.

I really just want to retire after college...

Seriously though. I mean, high school nearly killed me up until the last semester. College has been a back-and-forth roller-coaster ride of depression, growth, rejection, more growth, fear, and then who knows what. I feel like UofM should pay ME $40,000 a year, aren't I the one doing all the work? Where does this all come from, you ask? My preliminary search for a summer film position, which is altogether depressing. And while I do have faith in myself, it's going to be a toughy since I A)wish to be in on of the most sought-after businesses in the entire world and B) have gotten off to a late start, thanks again, UofM. Alright, it hasn't been all school's fault. Alright, its my fault, but still! Why can't things just be easy for once? When do I get my yaught? When do I get to chain smoke cigars until my lungs fall out of my chest only to be reinstated by a beautiful German girl named Inga as I sit and count my money on the back of my California estate overlooking a picturesque veranda? Cardboard box and anti-anxiety pills, here I come...

In other, happier news I made a list of 10 things I have set as goals for the year 2008. I'm pretty proud of them. I think I can hit all of them, except the one about getting a film internship this summer is, again, looking a little grim from the outset. I once had good job karma, what the heck happened? Oh, well, good news for my friends. I have promised myself not to speak of 'you know who' more than once a month (unless promted). I feel like this should make for a more healthy me and a more sane you. The list also includes joining more clubs at school (at least 2), getting an A in my dreaded STATS class just to keep me motivated and to host a fun party for my friends (I think I have a great idea for one)...its time for me to do something to give back to Southwest, I hope they enjoy it, whenever it happens to happen in the year 2008.

Also in other thrillings news, I've figured out where my unorthodox taste in girls comes from. I have always feared it came from my mother. Thank goodness this isn't the case (very sorry, mumsy). After watching classic movies Sabrina and Breakfast at Tiffany's (of which, the former is the more entertaining flick, I assure you) I've discovered I'm attracted to women like Audrey Hepburn. The looks, the personality, the elegance, the classiness. She had it all, and thats what I want. Hell, if we could dig up her decomposing body, slap some pearls on that thing and put on some sunglasses, I'd take her out for a drink. Nevermind the smell. Oh, she was also a humanitarian, beat that, Natalie Portman. If we ever get to the stage where we can dig up a dead person and clone them, Audrey Hepburn would be my pick for first human being copied. They'd then pick me to write the screenplay for Lunch at Tiffany's, Dinner at Tiffany's, then she'd die again, then we'd clone her again, then I'd write Midnight Snack at Tiffany's. How's that for a career plan?