This one comes from the “Random Thoughts While Being Driven Around The Countryside” edition of the story that is My Life. Last night, I boarded a very serious thought train on the logistics of pants vs. skirts. What it basically came down to is this: back in the day (like, wayyyy back in the day), what made the men decide that THEY would be the ones to wear pants, and THE FEMALES would be the ones in skirts?

I mean, anatomically it seems as though girls are better suited for pants, as nothing is there to become squished, and sweaty. And I think that many men out there could do with not having their balls in the vice that it seems pants would be. Skirts for men would be less constraining (and of course underwear would take care of the “support” factor) and a little more ventilated, for ultimate comfort.

So, the initial choice of our ancestors to wear pants while sticking women in skirts doesn’t make much sense to me, apart from the potential “easy access” of a skirt which I do not feel like thinking about. :|

I recorded another episode of The Ling Show yesterday, but I’ve not finished editing it. I’m sure you’re all getting very excited to hear about everything else that popped into my mind yesterday.

In the spirit of people making apologies and ‘fessing up to things, and others giving up certain pleasures for Lent, I have a confession. Twilight is my Guilty Pleasure. It may be the guiltiest of guilty pleasures. I’m by no means a “Twihard” (in fact, I had to check Urban Dictionary to make sure that was the proper term), but I am definitely a sucker for a love story… apparently even ones where the lead female characters aren’t as strong as I’d like.

I agree that the majority of the books lack no plot until the very end, and then it shows up under developed. I agree that Breaking Dawn was a waste of a book because… I can’t actually recall anything happening apart from the gruesome bit where Edward eats the mutant baby out of Bella’s stomach.

I think I am in the small percentage of the world that probably prefers the movies to the books, as well. I’m not a KStew fan, although she is growing on me. I am, admittedly, an RPattz fan, mainly left over from his Harry Potter days. I do love how he plays Edward as this manic depressive guy who hates himself. I love how KStew seems like she couldn’t give a damn about Twilight half the time. And I love how Taylor Lautner just loves every minute he spends around his fans, to provide contrast.

Obviously, there’s a dark side to my Guilty Pleasure, which leaves me torn. Since Twilight author Stephenie Meyer is Mormon, she in all likeliness pays 10% of her income to the LDS Church. In 2009, she was ranked as the 26th most powerful celebrity, earning over $50 million. That is a lot of money going right to the people who very much supported Proposition 8. That’s the part that makes me feel sick and uneasy. I can remember when I found out that Prop 8 had passed and bursting into tears, although I live in a completely different country, so it doesn’t really affect me. The thought of me contributing to that, although I am well aware that my donation is minuscule, kind of makes me hate myself.

So! Feel free to judge me, go go go! Also, share your guilty pleasures! (And then give them up for the next 40 days if you are Catholic!)

A bunch of my friends have recently had birthdays all in a row (today it is my friend Kaman’s birthday), and mine is quickly approaching (April 8th– take note! I will be 22~). I haven’t had a birthday party since I was 16 or 17, but I’ve still had cake, and I’ve still had the Happy Birthday song sung to me.

I don’t know about you guys, having Happy Birthday sung to you sort of awkwardly and off key by your friends can be kinda weird. I mean, you can look intently at your cake while you blush, or you can do what I do… a chair dance accompanied by some vague hand movements resembling that of an orchestra conductor. I feel as if excluding me from the actual performance is a bit rude, so I try to join in. I can’t sing Happy Birthday to myself, but I can provide excellent choreographed chair movement art and keep everyone on the same time with my conducting. Everyone’s looking at me anyway, I’m sure they expect me to do something.

I also have this theory about birthdays, and it is this: birthdays aren’t about you. Get real, like you did anything to be born. I know that I was born way too early, and then I promptly tried to die. That was nice of me to put my parents through that, right? So, yeah, your birthday is more about your parents, mainly your mom. I mean, she carried you around for all those months and then gave birth to you, and where’s her cake? I’m pretty sure cake isn’t traditionally served on Mother’s Day, at least I’ve never done it.

I mean, I’ll still take presents on my birthday, but still.