We All Nasty.

6 06 2012

I will be the first to admit that I am not the smartest person in the entire universe. I will, more than likely, have plenty of grammar issues and whatnot throughout this post, as an example. But, I must declare that I am incredibly upset by our culture’s lack of taste.

We are the “white trash” country of the world.

Seriously.

I try to hide from it.

I’ve spent a majority of my time in life avoiding pop culture. I try not to listen to the radio. I try not to watch anything on television except Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. I never read or watched Twilight. I don’t shop at stores that sell things new. I barely even read articles online anymore–and when I do they almost always come from Jezebel or I’ll catch of clip of Rachel Maddow while eating peanut butter off a spoon late at night after work. Usually, when I read an article or catch a clip I just end up getting pissed off, which annoys me, then I get more pissed off.

In other words, I attempt every day to not get pissed off.

I almost always fail.

Perhaps instead of avoiding that which pisses me off, I should confront it. I should embrace the fact that this shit exists and I should explain to people why they shouldn’t like it.

But who am I to be a cultural critic?

Am I qualified in any way?

What exactly makes my taste in things better than the average bear?

Just because I’m bitchy and judgmental and have been making fun of things for at least a decade?

Just because I went to school and have nothing better to do with my degrees?

I don’t know if I want to get involved in all this hoopla. It seems like I’d still be feeding into it even if what I was doing was analyzing it.

Perhaps if I’m bombarded by it with no choice over the matter– like I am at work with this”Call Me Maybe” shit feeding into my brain over and over all day long, then I am allowed to complain. Because no one deserves that kind of torture. It’s pure brain damage. And someone should STOP it.

All we can do it create better material and hope that it gains similar popularity. Though probably not possibly, at least the attempt is being made and there are alternatives.

Tomorrow: a video blog deconstructing Carly Rae and all who love her. You’re all going down.

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I Be a Dirrrty Skank?

5 04 2012

I’ve decided today that it is time for me to embrace my white trashiness. There is no denying it anymore. Yes, I’m aware, it’s always been here, sort of lurking around exposing itself at times in surprising places.

But earlier I was out and about and this woman kind of gave me the side eye like she wanted to fight (name the song) and I was like, why is this woman looking at me like that?

And I realized it’s because I’m dressed like a skank.

I don’t care.

Wearing minimal clothing when it’s hot out is sort of my thing… (and many other people’s too) but somehow it just comes off really trashy on me.

I’m poor. I grew up working class. I, at one point, was an expert at cooking hamburger helper, as an example.

I have a very open opinion about sexuality (like we should all do it and do more of it) that many people may find “immoral” even though it’s probably healthier.

I live on the fringes. I dumpster dive–for things and for food–when I get a chance.

And I am unpredictable. Which are all definitions of white trash.

I have to just come out and tell you all:

I don’t have very good taste. For example, there are clothes at the store I work that I would actually want to wear… in public.

I think for a part of my life I attempted to pretend I had good taste, by critiquing things like theater and music and art, but when it comes down to it I don’t know a Jackson Pollack from a 2nd graders abstract. I like Marilyn Manson. And Slipknot. And Heart. HEART!!!!

I like to sit outside on the porch and drink cheap beer and heckle people.

If I had a yard there would be broken down cars on it that I intended to fix whenever I learned how to fix cars.

I chew gum with my mouth open.

I wear bright colored eye shadow.

I think by just accepting this fact about myself it will open me up to better experiences and life choices. Maybe. Well, I won’t keep running from it anyway. I’ll be able to highlight the good parts of white trashiness–like its anti-authority mentality and its open sexuality–and use those elements to make the world a prettier place. Okay. Maybe not prettier, but more interesting anyway.