Thursday, May 27, 2010

If I Have to Explain LOST One More Time I am Going to Bludgeon Somebody

First thing’s first: If you have not seen the LOST finale, don’t read this. Massive spoilers lie ahead. If you have no problem with spoilers, then feel free to keep reading.

For the last six years, LOST has been an integral part of my nerdiness. I cannot tell you how many times I have fan-girled out over hidden references, dissected plot-threads, and threatened severe bodily harm to anyone who had the nerve to even consider calling me on the nights that I was watching it. Every time a season would end, a nasty bout of LOST withdrawal would kick in, and I would find myself hoping that the time between seasons would pass quickly so that I could resume watching my favourite fractured fairy tale (and get some goddamn answers!).

Now that LOST is over, I have the majority of my answers and I can honestly say that I am satisfied with how it ended. However, I do have one burning question:

Did anyone actually pay attention to what was going on throughout this show?

It has been less than a week since the finale aired, and I have found myself explaining plot elements that were solved long ago. I have read countless Facebook status updates, tweets, and comments on articles that ask some of the dumbest questions I have seen/heard since my stint in retail. If I had a nickel for every time I have said (or thought), “The Island was not Purgatory” I would have enough to cover at least one of my monthly bills by now. I just don’t get it. I know that people are dumb; this does not surprise me. I just didn’t think that people were THIS dumb. Especially not people who have watched every episode of the show. I mean, what is there not to get? The Numbers were explained. The Sideways world was explained. Richard Alpert’s eternal youth and amazing eyelashes were explained. Why do so many people still have so many questions? (And so many stupid ones, at that?) 

 He was totally born with it. (

Really, folks. It’s not rocket science. Everything that happened on the Island actually happened; it wasn’t made up, it wasn’t Purgatory. None of the main characters died in the crash of Oceanic  815. If you think otherwise, you’re dumb,  because  Christian plainly states that the time on the Island “…was the most important time of your lives.” Read that again. “Time of your lives.” Ben didn’t go into the church because  he still had some things that he had to come to peace with. He even said that he had some shit to work out. Pay attention! That final footage of the wreckage during the credits was just filler material – it was never meant as some final clue to go apeshit over. 

Seriously, it’s not that hard to grasp. So why are so many people acting like it is? And how the hell do they function in their day to day lives if they can’t even piece together a fucking television show?

 The End. Really. (

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Heavy Lifting

Last week I went on a Twitter tirade about a local radio personality by the name of BJ Shea. I don’t listen to his show, like, ever, but it was playing on my radio while I was swapping CDs and he made some inflammatory comments about pregnant women in the workplace. As a result of my “tweeting,” I was contacted by Steve the Producer at 99.9 KISW and told that they would love it if I sent an email or even phoned to tell them why I hate BJ so much. (I am also now being followed by a podcast out of Seattle; I don’t think this is a coincidence.*) I’m thinking that Steve did not read all of my stream of concsiousness comments, because, really, I explain everything right there. And now I am wondering if there was any shit-talking happening on-air over a lack of understanding in regards to what I said. Anyway, below is the complete rant:

thelexhex I think BJ Shea should be killed with fire. Listening to even a second of his morning show almost always pisses me off. 12:08 AM May 14th via web

thelexhex Case in point, yesterday morning he began talking shit about pregnant women who cannot do as much in the workplace b/c of their condition... 12:12 AM May 14th via web

thelexhex "Heaven forbid you do any heavy lifting," he shouted. This struck a nerve. I nearly lost my oldest daughter b/c... *drum roll please* 12:14 AM May 14th via web

thelexhex I tore my gestational sac... from HEAVY FUCKING LIFTING. The item in question was a 21 lb cat, btw. Not that 21 lbs is normally "heavy".

thelexhex So, yes, heaven forbid a pregnant woman does any heavy lifting b/c she can end up killing her fucking baby. 12:19 AM May 14th via web

thelexhex And, no, I don't really think that BJ Shea (or anyone, for that matter) should be killed. That's not how I roll. That guy just pisses me off 12:21 AM May 14th via web

So, to recap, yes, BJ Shea pisses me off. I hate his morning show, and his comments about pregnant women that day were ridiculous. No, I do not really think that he should die in a fire because, again, that is not how I roll. Am I going to call in and get into a debate with him over why he’s a grumpy asshole? No, because I have better shit to do with my time. And, NO, pregnant women should not do any heavy lifting regardless of what their job responsibilities entail, and regardless of what some asshole with a radio show thinks. Seriously, it's not worth it.

*Shortly after I posted this, The Dave and Steve Show tweeted at me to let know that their hitting +Follow actually was a total coincidence. AWESOME!!

**Also, I hate the terms "tweet" and "tweeted." Is there a less dorky sounding synonym regarding Twitter posts out there? Should I just keep my thesaurus handy? I'll go with the latter...

***A couple of weeks after I posted it, The Dave and Steve Show stopped following me. LOL

Monday, May 3, 2010

Blogging Is Hard

No, really, it is. For me, anyway. See, here’s the thing… There are numerous topics that I would love to sound off on: women who have no idea that they are pregnant until their baby plops out while they are using the loo, the creepy weight-gain fetishists who keep adding my work on deviantART to their favourites (what the fuck is sexy about a self-deprecating caricature of myself nesting and crying over Star Wars? Seriously?), Tetsuya Nomura and his unnatural obsession with designing characters that have way too many zippers, the Twilight craze and why Rpatz looks like a foot…

There are so many thoughts running through my mind but for some reason, despite being a former freelance fucking writer, I find myself unable to type a coherent sentence about anything other than my inability to type a coherent sentence. Instead, all I can do is sit on my sofa and vegetate after a long, tiring day of child-rearing, drinking – no, guzzling – Mountain Dew like it’s going out of style and wondering when Munchkin is going to start talking, since her shouts of “DAT,” while amusing, are starting to frustrate me ever so slightly. (“Can you say ‘milk?’” “DAT!!”) I sigh and wonder if Midget will be a little more willing to listen to me tomorrow than she was today.  Then I break out my laptop in the hopes that I will be able to write something… and instead of opening Word, I click on Firefox and waste my time reading the addictive articles on while my husband winds down from a long day of work while periodically flicking one of my boobs because that’s how us married folk communicate: by flicking boobs because it is dead sexy.

Wait, what was I talking about?

Oh, yeah, writing about shit, and how I can’t seem to get it done no matter how hard I try. Is that a sign? That despite my random tirades to my husband and friends, my thoughts just get stopped up and I end up wondering if there’s some kind of brain laxative I can take to get this shit flowing appropriately?

For now, I am going to do what I do best after hours: eat. There is some damn fine homemade shrimp pasta in the microwave right this second, and it is calling me. Maybe some food will help the creative process…?