Frankelstache

Life, America, Randomness

Posts Tagged ‘White Trash

Anal-ism

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Something’s been bugging me for a while now. Not really sure why I remembered it all of a sudden. It’s late, I’m watching an MTV show about 16 year old White Trash girls that got Britney-ied* and I guess you could say I’m still under the influences of Queen, that’s been playing in the background for the past hour.

At any case, I have another English inquiry I wanted to talk about. You know I came to America a tad less than three years ago thinking / knowing that the word ‘Anal’ has to do with one’s anus, and is more often than not used when describing an activity closely related to but-banging. Faster than the time it takes a republican to answer ‘Jesus’ when asked who’s got his back, I learned that ‘Anal’ isn’t a language taboo, but actually socially accepted – and can, at certain occasions, be seen as a compliment.

Time had passed and I learned more and more about the American use of the English language. I avidly read Krakuer’s awesome books, surreptitiously studied H. Fleming’s eye-opening poetry and diligently watched a few Hannah Montana episodes, yet the story behind Anal’s transition from a sodomy-descriptive adjective to an allegory illustrating a detailed-oriented / control-freak person has yet to exposed itself in front of my daunted eyes.

The first explanation I came up with was that apparently all these Librarians / OCD Soccer Moms must really like it up the ass. But that seemed like a bigger urban legend than “Woody Allen used to make great movies” so I decided to forego it. Then I thought that maybe it’s because the anus is a very tight and squeezed place, and that so-called ‘anal’ people really enjoy small and tight places cause they can fit things inside of it (by category) and label it perfectly. But that, too, sounded like a far-fetched idea. Lastly, I went as far as exploring the possibility that the correlation between the two uses stems from the fact that a vagina lubes itself free-willingly (well, somewhat) while the ass’s lubrication levels can and must be controlled – and anal people like control. But that was just too out there and I thought no one is that twisted.

So now I turn to you. Can someone please put me out of my misery and explain, once and for all what’s the deal?

* Knocked up

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Written by Frankelstache

June 18, 2009 at 11:36 pm

A Day At The Mall

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The woman I love sent me on an errand to fix the squeaking noise in her red automobile. Predictably, the guys in the garage found no squeaking noise, but were nonetheless happy to inform me that a full set of new tires is required. So there you have it: you go to the garage with problem X, and find solution to problem Y. Can’t believe I fell for a trick older than Sophia Lauren.

Refusing to be affected by this unexpected $505 garage visit, I dragged my ass to the nearest shopping Mall for some free people-watching. Ahhhh…. The Mall. Such a lovely blend of homeless men, senior citizens in sweatpants, white trash hoe’s and 20-something year old Latinos dressed in baggy pants and  XXX Large wife beaters. Also in the Mall, you will surely encounter a never-ending scent of baked Choros, loud teenagers and security guards riding Segways.

Entering the Mall, I immediately walk toward the restroom in order to mark my territory and loosen up the leftovers from last night’s dinner. 4 pages into my book, approximately 2 pounds lighter and 8 toilet paper sheets later, I exit the restroom and start wandering around the vicinity. I scope the brands and franchisees, only to stop in bewilderment as I witness a store whose sole purpose appears to be selling people on the idea of joining the Army. Oh man, that’s even weirder than the time I had to witness my mom lifting the woman I love at the gym. I heard about impulse shopping, and sure, I’ve practiced my share of idiotic purchases right near the register. But even if you combine all the beef jerky I bought just because it was placed strategically, all the trashy tabloids and all the Aids cookies* I bought on a whim, altogether is not as stupid as walking into the Mall in search of a new shirt or maybe in hope to pacify your child, and in there – sandwiched between these great marvels listed above – deciding to join the Army. Sweet Moses father of Jesus – how insanely naive can these people be? Sorry, but this Army store disturbs me so much that I must leave this subject behind in fear of reoccurring nightmares. I must stop conversing with this Sergeant without much ado.

The cool thing about the Mall though, is that it’s always been a place of innovation in terms of battery-charged vehicles that move fat people around (I like to call them ‘ObeseMobiles’). No other country in the world offers such a variety of ways to stroll the Mall. Since childhood I was fascinated by these awe-inspiring ObeseMobiles, an invention that appeared to be created just so it’ll be easier for fat people to continually spend their dough on dough(nuts). Awesome.

As I continue touring, I find an earth-shattering discovery. This Mall has a Wall-Mart store inside of it. Ah…Wall-Mart…. The bad guys. The bullies of corporate America. It’s actually been awhile since I entered a Wall-Mart store. Almost 4 years. Now like every other socially-aware kid, I too have once found anti-globalization books to be semi-erotic. I too have read and heard about the wrongdoings of this retail giant. And as I entered the store, all of that (mostly true) propaganda was running through my mind. I was expecting to find a young Chinese boy tormented between the aisles, the store manager to be drinking blood and the employees to be zombies that are scarier looking than Paula Abdul in Drag. Instead, I found four white trash moms, all with different variations of written tattoos across their chest/ necks, 6 socks for only $6, and a bottle of vitamin water for a buck. I thought to myself that this is a damn good deal. So I paid for all of the above (minus the white trash moms and their tattoos – the woman I love wouldn’t approve).

Did it make me feel bad that I’m helping this evil corporation? Yeah, maybe a little, cause obviously I’m writing about it. But in this economy, 6 socks for $6? – Screw Michael Moore.

*You know, cookies that you buy in order to cure Aids or whatever. The checkout lady at Safeways sells them to me all the time for $2 a piece. They’re actually not that bad.

Written by Frankelstache

March 9, 2009 at 11:44 am