One Night in LA
I'm a snarky cynic from Los Angeles. I'm obsessed with cartoons, comics, video games, books, and the '80s.
This blog is an inconsistent piece o' crap; all I do is reblog, make pointless personal posts, crack lame jokes, chat up my followers, reblog like there's no tomorrow, and talk about my book which I am currently writing.
When I randomly become aware of how much my hips swing when I walk, I get self-conscience and start walking like John Wayne.
I’ve never been on Christian Slater’s official website.
I call scene kids “The Rainbow Skunks”.
I am extremely disappointed in today’s fashionable clothes and hairstyles.
I was essentially bullied into giving up on learning Japanese.
I explained in another fact that I picked it up in Hawaii from our Japanese neighbor who became family. When I got into the fourth grade I started to study it a lot more and teaching myself how to read and write.
But both sides of my family were about as supportive as a loose, strapless bra. They made racist jokes about the Japanese, that there’s a reason Japanese is spoken by Japanese (because I look stupid when I speak it), and more.
My mother was the worst.
When I gave it up, she got very angry and disappointed in me (which confuses the hell out of me).
When I was really little I thought Lion-O was WilyKat’s father while Tygra was WilyKat’s father.
I didn’t find out that they were brother and sister till I got a little older.
I blame the hair-shape.
I have divided my dad’s family into two halves and nicknamed them both.
The redneck, slobbering morons who crack racists, sexists, albeist, what have you jokes like it’s their job are The Mighty Whities.
The rich, pretentious pricks who are more subtle with their racism and are strong supporters of the Tea Party are The Tighty Whities.
My father’s family are the founders of the town of Snowflake, Arizona but we don’t get a cent of the inheritance because my dad renounced being Mormon.
But luckily we don’t care since it’s blood money.
You have no idea how many people died because of them.
I understand Spanish. I can’t really speak it though but I understand what people are saying.
My family speaks to me in Spanish and I respond in English.
Or start playing charades.
They hate it.
But I am too white to roll my Rs.
I speak a fair amount of Japanese.
Our neighbor, who become one of my mom’s best friends, was Japanese and in Hawaii (where we were living at the time), you call everyone “uncle” or “auntie” whether you are related to them or not. I was little, I didn’t understand that so I thought she really was my aunt.
So I thought I was part Japanese and I decided to learn the language. So I taught myself.
When I got a little bit older (and the uncle/aunty concept became natural), it dawned on me that she really wasn’t.
I have a hard time calling Christian Slater anything other than Christian Slater.
Him being my role model/hero/idol thingy since I was a little kid makes it difficult to call him Mr. Slater or Mr. Christian because I feel a sense of casual closeness.
I won’t call him Christian or Slater because I feel it’s too informal and disrespectful and he’s one of the few people in this world that I have copious amounts of respect for.
So, full name basis for all eternity.
My name actually looks beautiful and elegant despite its meaning.
12/30/2011
I got my first Christian Slater movies.
That I own.
What now, bitches?
I dance around to the music on my iPod and make music videos in my head.
Featuring my characters.
That’s actually how I get my writing mojo working is with music and putting scenes.
I have a habit of running around the house for no reason.
