When Tweets Attack

Want to piss someone off? Use Twitter as your outlet and then claim your account hacked.

That’s how Amber Rose does it. Sure, she says her Twitter was hacked Tuesday when followers read:

“Congrats to @thegame for having the #1 Album… Watch the Throne is Wack [sic] as @kanyewest ‘s D*ck anyway.”

Of course The Game, a West Coast rapper, responded and thanked her for the compliment, but minutes later she tweeted:

“WTF!!! I shut my phone off and changed my password how the h*ll are they still HACKING me???”

Hmph.

I’m convinced there is a strong possibility that the video vixen personally tweeted about how whack she believes Kanye West’s “Peter” to be, considering they did date once upon a time. I also have a new strategy to implement when I feel like being reckless in 140 characters or less: tweet it and claim it fraudulent; that way if someone’s offended you have a scapegoat.

But The Game had another tactic in mind for infuriating his adversaries – one that does involve a tweet but is coupled with an influx of phone calls.

The rapper tweeted to 580,000 followers about an internship opportunity he was offering, but the phone number mentioned in the tweet directed those interested to the Compton Sheriff’s Department.

Uh oh, trouble.

The sheriff logged on to the department’s Twitter and asked for the phone number to be removed from the post. It was removed, but The Game denied any responsibility for the tweet.

I guess it’s OK to live by the cyber mantra, Tweet It, Don’t Claim It.

Are there any examples of celebrity tweets gone bad that come to mind? Fire away below.

Silence is Golden

I finally realize how annoying I was. All thanks to my best friends and roommates.

See, last year I was the one that studied abroad in Tuscany for three months. This past summer, the three of them sailed across the speckled blue sea to Cannes, Oxford, and Norway.

But, for some reason, I still keep imagining myself trotting down the giant hill through Cortona, mingling with the locals, tasting true, robust wine, and dancing away my teenage years at the local discotech.

Oh, America, how you so quickly snapped me out of that.

You tricked me into eating fast food over pasta alla Quattro formaggi, walking on mere concrete over crackled cobblestones, and pretending that some grand, canyon could rival the splendor and immensity of the Musei Vatican. Call it a reverse culture shock.

In Europe, especially on a study abroad, you can travel with no hesitations or worries. The rolling, green hills and dotted lakes are both your backyard and playground. A train ride masks itself as the Hogwarts Express, transporting you somewhere equally as magical and remarkable as the place before. And then suddenly, when you’re back on American soil, a veil of dullness and ennui settles around you.

Granted, this didn’t keep me from wanting to tell every, single person that, “I just got back from Italy, and this is my first quesadilla”. Sadly, I was that irritating. Even worse, I didn’t even realize the magnitude of my obnoxiousness until a full calendar year later.

When my roommate, Cassie, arrived back from Cannes after attending the film festival this past May, she was high on Europe. Literally. We couldn’t go thirty seconds without discussing how fantastic it was walking with Tilda Swinton into the Grand Theatre, or how four men, each from a different continents, hit on her in a single night. Does anyone have a vacant brick wall I can pound my head into?

So as I settled fully back into my monotonous, American life, I made myself one promise: I will live in Florence again during my twenties. But, I swear, whole-heartedly, not to mentally waterboard my family and friends with every story.

Dawn of the Shark: Movies That Are Killing Sharks

I'll be the first to admit it. I've been a self-proclaimed addict since I was six years old. Shark addict, that is. It started with an overly sensitive fear that kept me out of any body of water—ocean, lake, pond, sometimes even the pool—and eventually led to my current adoration for Shark Week. Naturally, you would think that I wouldn't have an issue with the trending shark obsessions. But now, with the new Shark Night 3D movie coming out, it's all becoming a bit overwhelming.


Sharktopus :: Seriously?

Yesterday, as I was perusing the aisles of Vision Video, I abruptly stopped at the image of a strange creature: a "sharktopus" as it was called. Standing there slightly awestruck by its pure hilarity I thought, "What the hell is that? And who on earth would rent that flop-of-a-movie?" But, let's be honest, Sharktopus isn't the only one if its kind. There's Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus, Shark Attack 3: Megalodon and now Shark Night (and don't forget, it's 3D).

All of these terrible Hollywood films are playing with my emotions. I can't decide if I should laugh or shed a few tears. I love me some Shark Week shows filled with intensely gruesome shark attacks, or at least perfectly acted dramatizations of those attacks. And a night of Jaws is never wasted. (It was definitely a worthy first pg-13 movie when I was a kid.)

I wouldn't go as far as saying they're all bad movies, but I don't believe I'll ever give in to the corny shark creations. It's almost a disgrace to the sharkdom of Discovery Channel and Jaws. Maybe I'm taking it too seriously though. Maybe I'm missing the whole point of an overly-corny film. What do you think? Are these shark movies cheap Hollywood atrocities or simply incredible entertainment?

On a side note, if you're interested in finding out more about some horribly awesome shark movies, check out the Top Ten Best and Worst Shark Films. It's pretty freaking hilarious.

(Not) Married to the Idea

Marriage isn’t a contract between just you and your “darling.” No, Uncle Sam has just become a part of your relationship life. Enjoy your three-way!

Fuck that.

Michelle Bachman will tell you that marriage is sacred. GLAAD will tell you it’s a civil rights.

I’ll tell you that it is a false fucking argument and the government should have no part of your love life.

To quote the great Doug Stanhope, “If marriage didn’t exist, would you invent it?”

It’s a valid question. If you loved your girlfriend/boyfriend/pillow more then you have ever loved anything, would you want to get contracts and other shit involved?

If you want to get married for religious reasons, that’s fine, but it shouldn’t have anything to do with the government. Do you sign a binding government contract when you join a church?

When I tell people that I don’t believe in marriage, it seems as if I am telling people “Hey, I’m total dick!”

To this I say, I may be a dick but I am committed, I am…a Committed Dick! (wait...)

It’s not that I want to live the life of a Viking, running around from port-to-port with a battle ax, a healthy gallon of mead and my dick waving at anything that passes by.

Well, the mead and ax stuff sounds pretty amazing…Ok, I am a Viking, just minus the waving genital part.

In fact, this Viking is actually in relationship.

I have been with the same girl for over five years, and not any of this “on-and-off” Hollywood bullshit.

No, it has been five-straight-years with absolutely zero plans to get married.

Not long ago my lovely (non)bride-to-be and I decided that we just weren’t going to get married. We weren’t breaking up, we just decided that marriage need not enter the kingdom which is our lives.

To be pragmatic about it, we are not religious, we hate diamonds and we just don’t see any real benefits.

I mean, tax breaks? Fuck tax breaks!

To quote the great Doug Stanhope (again) “If you want tax breaks, incorporate.”

I Need a Heroine

When the superhero movie renaissance began anew in the early 2000s, my comic book-loving heart beat wildly.

But lately, the ongoing superhuman sausage party hosted by Marvel Studios and Warner Brothers is causing palpitations.

"Dark Knight Rising" and "The Avengers" have both been slated for production. But "Wonder Woman" has been pushed back yet again, and a host of female heroes, such as Hawkgirl, Raven and Witchblade have yet to be touched.

Neither studio seems willing to make a decent film featuring a female protagonist. When presented with smart, dedicated and cunning Selena Kyle, Warner Brothers made a movie about Halle Berry's ass. And a mere focus shift off of Daredevil was the only thing necessary to turn Elektra, the only believable character in an otherwise unwatchable film into a soulless sexy assassin.

Yet these same studios have presented touching nods to human nature in male-driven movies such as "The Dark Knight" and "Spiderman 2." And though every character played a backseat to Wolverine, the girls in "X-men United" somehow managed personality.

The fact that both "Catwoman" and "Elektra" were bombs at the box-office probably doesn't make superwomen any more appealing to film makers. But it's their own damn fault. Audiences contrasting these disasters with characters such as Rachel Dawes and Pepper Potts can already see the bias.

Female main means babes for justice, yet male leads can be supported by women with a cause.

So while the newly suited "Man of Steel" gears up for yet another Superman movie, fans continue to wait a single cinematic version of "Wonder Woman."

And I continue to hold my breath in hopes film makers will catch their mistake — only so much bullshit can be sold by sex.

Twilight Saga, who do you think you are?

Seriously, what makes you think that the final installment of your soul-crushing, IQ-dropping book series deserves to be split into two parts?

This summer we saw the conclusion of one of the most beloved book series ever to grace the worlds of literature and cinema. “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2” broke box office records as well as the hearts of many fans as they saw their childhood end in one fell swoop. That movie deserved to be split into two parts.

This final Twilight movie does not.

The details of that last Harry Potter book were so many and so intricate that in order for them to do the book justice they had to break the movie up into two parts.

When I heard that “Breaking Dawn,” the fourth and, thankfully, final installment was going to broken up into two movies, I was furious, to say the least.

Let me preface this by saying that I have indeed read all of the books and seen all of the movies thus far. I’m ashamed to admit that, believe me. I was Team Edward all the way. When I finished “Breaking Dawn,” I was supremely disappointed. Stephenie Meyer built up this epic battle where it seemed like no one was going to survive, but then NOTHING happened. There was no battle, no fighting and no one died. Pathetic. At least J.K. Rowling had the balls to kill off some of my favorite characters.

I can sum up this last book in less than a hundred words. The ONLY reason why they are making “Breaking Dawn” into two movies is because the Harry Potter franchise did it, and they think it will be a great way to squeeze more money out of those idiotic Twi-hards. It’s not going to work, Twilight production goons. This sick and twisted love story will never be as universally beloved as Harry Potter, and you should stop trying.

This is one former fan that refuses to give you another cent. I leave you with this quote from Stephen King:

"Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding inner strength and doing what is right in the face of adversity. Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend.”

Look at your life. Look at your choices.

Happy Birthday to Me

So my birthday comes up on Saturday, and rather uncharacteristically I'm fairly excited for it. Let me explain: I don't like making a big deal out of my birthdays or even out of birthdays in general.

Now I enjoy a good celebration as much as the next person. Parties are a spice that I enjoy sprinkled quite liberally throughout my life, but I've never seen birthdays as that big of a deal. I understand the mania surrounding the fact that one has survived another year, but I've just never gotten into it myself.

This may have to do with the idea that a lot of people ask for special treatment on their birthdays. I highly prize sincerity, and there just seems something inherently insincere about asking someone to perform an action for me simply "because it's my birthday." I would hope that A) what I asked of the person was not something outlandish and B) given that my request was reasonable, that the person would perform it for me regardless of whether or not it was my birthday, simply because of the rapport we share.

Nevertheless I cannot wait for Saturday to roll around. There's a lot of stuff happening: the Georgia football season opener against Boise State, a pool party, a feasting of homemade strawberry cupcakes, and finally a late-night trek into downtown Athens. If I wasn't pumped for those events already, the fact that it's my birthday probably wouldn't have changed that.

Mum's the Word

"Four young men from West London in their early twenties, they have fire in their bellies, romance in their hearts, and rapture in their masterful, melancholy voices."

-mumfordandsons.com

Mumford & Sons is the real deal.

This being said, I wonder how M&S feel about the bloc of their fan base I’ve dubbed,
"The M-Posters."

If you think Marcus Mumford is the biological patriarch in a traveling family of singers or your favorite song is "the one on the radio with the F-word," I'm sorry to say, my friend, you may be an M-poster.

Mumford & Sons has become a tune trend for some who consider themselves too “melodically-inclined” to be labeled mindless followers of mainstream music. These self-ascribed connoisseurs dedicate a large portion of their time memorizing the words of "Sigh No More,” to impress their friends by singing along aimlessly in car rides or exercising the chance to roll their eyes when someone hasn’t heard of “Little Lion Man.” 

It's reminiscent of the pretentious air that sometimes surrounds the DMB cult. Dave Matthews Band has produced some good tune-age, but I don’t need a demonic-looking zombie ballerina on the back of my car in order to convince myself and others I’m unconventional enough to enjoy “Grey Street.”

Let’s be real.

Sure, M&S appreciate our downloads, but they’d much more appreciate sincere dedication. We're doing our compositions of choice a great disservice by failing to actually listen. Let’s spend more time enjoying the well-crafted melodies and incredible story-telling and less time trying to persuade everyone we alone are savvy enough to do so. Isn’t the point of good music to distract us from everything and everyone else?

Mumford & Sons is a band, not a brand. If we’re faking fandom to be part of this elite faction, we’re insulting the unapologetic authenticity that has made M&S worthy of such a following.

If we truly want to deviate from the social norm, when we realize we haven’t really got any novel insights to share about our music selection-let’s shut up.

Your Mom is Stupid

“Your language is stupid.”

A linguistics professor from Korea said that to me just last semester after having difficulty conjugating a verb. “Perhaps,” I thought, “you should have studied Korean linguistics.” (I did not say that aloud, though, because that would have been rude). Later I found myself actually thinking, “Home girl is totally right.” English is a disaster of a language that could really use a little stability. We’ve got so many irregular verbs that the regular verbs are the minority; we have an ever-expanding slang lexicon in American English alone, and the realm of nonverbal communication is a daunting task for new speakers.

Yet Beyonce can practically tell the world that she is pregnant in a song, and no one understands until she rubs her belly.

I guess it’s just the little linguist in me, but this stuck out to me more than cross-dressing Lady Gaga. Touching your stomach is not a universal sign of pregnancy, but saying (or in Beyonce’s case singing) “I want you to feel the love that’s growing inside of me” is a pretty clear indicator, I’d say.

I’ll be honest though, I didn’t get it until after the fact. Why is it that we can hear one thing, but don’t really understand until an action occurs? The same is true for other things, like love and threats, but is it possible that without certain gestures some phrases would be meaningless?

Do actions really speak louder than words?

Spicy food, mild protests

Two cups of civil discontent, filled to the brim for years, finally overflowed recently in two different places around the world, with very different results.

One of the instances was in London, where widely-publicized riots occurred for several nights in August. Rioters filled the streets, attacking people, looting stores and burning buildings and cars.

Sympathizers say that the riots were simply a response to unbearable austerity measures by the British government, coupled with incredibly high youth unemployment and social inequality. The shooting of a police suspect was supposedly the spark that set alight the dry kindle.

Fast forward two weeks and four thousand miles. In India, a man named Anna Hazare begins a hunger strike against government corruption. Millions around the country are inspired to strike and march peacefully in support.

It’s easy to say that the Indians’ method was better simply because it was peaceful. Instead, let’s look at results:

• In London, police presence was stepped up, hundreds of rioters were arrested, private property of civilians was destroyed, and not much has really changed since then. If anything, people are worse off than they were before, unless they were among the lucky few that were able to get away with a new flatscreen.

• In India, a country where two bucks or a cold beer are more than enough to bribe the cops to let you get away with almost anything (trust me, I know from experience), a change occurred that could revolutionize Indian politics and society. There were no riots, no arsons, no mass lootings or flash mobs.

I'll let you be the judge on which is the more efficient. In the mean time, I only ask; when, if ever, is violent protest justified?