A World of Temptation...
I was channel surfing and came across a show called Temptation Island. This horrific display of vapid conversation, botch plastic surgeries, and (anything but) romantic relationships, made me question the title of the show. Is this really what America is tempted by? That got me to thinkin' what is my (and everyone else's) worst temptations? If American Reality TV can stereotype temptation, then I feel, so must I. Bring on the stereotyping.
ME: Shopping, shoes ( not just any shoes, but shoes that are so out of my price range- I decide between a new pair of Marc Jacobs or groceries for the month. Patent Leather really doesn't taste so bad once you get use to it.), vacations, smoking, and chicken fried steak. Now these are things I have been trying to ween myself off of for quite some time now and have been mildly successful. But there's nothing like a good night of drinking (wearing beautifully crafted designer shoes) combined with a wild night of fabulous sex, the post-coital smoke, chicken fried steak for breakfast, and the ultimate hangover cure, shopping, while on vacation. So there you have it- I'm fucked. My vices all go hand in hand. Shit.
GAMER: Now their temptations are plenty, obviously, MMORPGs, the latest and smallest computer components, sleeping (usually during the day), drinking, and last- but most trecherous of all- the aisle you HAVE to walk down if you want to get to the cash registers at Frye's. The dreaded snack, candy, soda, and basically anything that will give you an insane sugar high and keep you awake to finish building the millions of droids you need for Star Wars Galaxies- aisle. Frye's really knows their consumer. (I acually fell victim of that cleverly crafted store layout plan just today- I bought some Lindt Truffles.)
INDIE ROCKER: Their temptations are as follows: haircuts (that nobody has)(( more elite if you do it yourself))(((really uber if you do it with a lighter or pocket knife without looking in the mirror))), PBR or really underground microbrews that nobody can even pronounce the name of, designer drugs (i.e. xanax, coke, and whatever else is really hard to find and is illegal), bands that are comprised of synthesizers and cowbells (but they can't be bands that people have actually heard of), vintage tennis shoes, and pants that are 3 sizes too small and made of polyester. So basically you're not a pretentious indie rocker if, in fact, you do anything anybody else does or listen to music that isn't German. Sorry, but if you're walking down the street and somebody is wearing a t-shirt that has your favorite band on it, then, by code of elite ethics, you must toss that CD, trash the MP3s and burn any other parafinalia that could so link you to a now "mainstream" band.
I could really spend hours stereotying and judging people that I have never met (this has been a hobby of mine for years), but, sadly, I can feel the cancerous glow of the computadora screen slowly seeping under my skin, which, I'm guessing, is why I have a heinous headache right now. I will now relieve myself of my duties as a critic on just about everything and everyone. I am impossible to please, so don't even try...ever.
Savvy
ME: Shopping, shoes ( not just any shoes, but shoes that are so out of my price range- I decide between a new pair of Marc Jacobs or groceries for the month. Patent Leather really doesn't taste so bad once you get use to it.), vacations, smoking, and chicken fried steak. Now these are things I have been trying to ween myself off of for quite some time now and have been mildly successful. But there's nothing like a good night of drinking (wearing beautifully crafted designer shoes) combined with a wild night of fabulous sex, the post-coital smoke, chicken fried steak for breakfast, and the ultimate hangover cure, shopping, while on vacation. So there you have it- I'm fucked. My vices all go hand in hand. Shit.
GAMER: Now their temptations are plenty, obviously, MMORPGs, the latest and smallest computer components, sleeping (usually during the day), drinking, and last- but most trecherous of all- the aisle you HAVE to walk down if you want to get to the cash registers at Frye's. The dreaded snack, candy, soda, and basically anything that will give you an insane sugar high and keep you awake to finish building the millions of droids you need for Star Wars Galaxies- aisle. Frye's really knows their consumer. (I acually fell victim of that cleverly crafted store layout plan just today- I bought some Lindt Truffles.)
INDIE ROCKER: Their temptations are as follows: haircuts (that nobody has)(( more elite if you do it yourself))(((really uber if you do it with a lighter or pocket knife without looking in the mirror))), PBR or really underground microbrews that nobody can even pronounce the name of, designer drugs (i.e. xanax, coke, and whatever else is really hard to find and is illegal), bands that are comprised of synthesizers and cowbells (but they can't be bands that people have actually heard of), vintage tennis shoes, and pants that are 3 sizes too small and made of polyester. So basically you're not a pretentious indie rocker if, in fact, you do anything anybody else does or listen to music that isn't German. Sorry, but if you're walking down the street and somebody is wearing a t-shirt that has your favorite band on it, then, by code of elite ethics, you must toss that CD, trash the MP3s and burn any other parafinalia that could so link you to a now "mainstream" band.
I could really spend hours stereotying and judging people that I have never met (this has been a hobby of mine for years), but, sadly, I can feel the cancerous glow of the computadora screen slowly seeping under my skin, which, I'm guessing, is why I have a heinous headache right now. I will now relieve myself of my duties as a critic on just about everything and everyone. I am impossible to please, so don't even try...ever.
Savvy