humans are funny

Author: laurenne

  • I’m wrong. I admit it when I’m wrong.

    Wait. Wait. Wait. I spoke too soon. I hang my head in embarrassment. Robots will not take over every job. They might commandeer our postal jobs and our salesperson jobs, but now I’ve seen an error in my report: Robots will never ever be able to replace the sign spinner. These guys are too original. Too creative. Too much of a necessity to be obliterated by a mechanized piece of plastic.
    This guy, especially. When I see him on the corner every morning, he reminds me that I’m alive. His energy is contagious. And his uncanny resemblance to the actual Statue of Liberty just baffles me.
    I like to think of Mr. Liberty’s kids. I’m sure he’ll reminisce with them about his first job as a sign spinner and boast proudly about how he got to stand on a corner every morning and wear the regal seagreen robes of an American icon, topped with a matching foam crown. Just like I’ll reminisce to my offspring about my first job at Ken’s World of Video. I’ll tell them all about the stale smell of popcorn and the nice men who would come in to rent Cool Runnings on pizza-sized laser disks or Debbie Does Dallas VI on VHS. Just to return them two hours later. I probably won’t tell them that someone pooed on the floor of the 21-and-over room though. Sometimes details are meant to be left out. Especially the fact that it was me who pooed on the floor of the 21-and-over room. Not really. But whoever did is really gross and probably didn’t use toilet paper. And probably bought some popcorn from me right after. Oh, first jobs.

  • Need not be human to apply

    Sometimes an outcome is so predictable that an ‘I told you so’ is rendered unnecessary. China is one example. The government gave families a one baby limit. Of course most Chinese families wanted their one baby to be male in order to pass on the family name. Or maybe just to avoid shopping for prom dresses.
    Either way, when the Chinese ended up aborting baby girls, it seemed like the obvious thing to do would be to repeal the law. Or at least let the people have 2 babies. Or 1.5.
    Maybe because I’m an outsider, I see it clearly. But I’ll argue that it had to be a bit obvious to the government or to a three-yr-old that a population of boys would lead to problems. Major ones. I am baffled that a government wouldn’t foresee the disaster of social engineering. You just don’t mess with nature. In the last Chinese census, there were 13 million more boys under 9 than girls. By 2020, there will be 40 million Chinese men with no one to marry, causing even more population problems.
    And I just want to say to China: DUH!
    I mean, DUH!

    Every day Chinese men pray that they will one day see what they’ve only read about: girls.

    I mention this because there’s something over here brewing that will surely elicit some ‘duh’s in years to come. I’m telling it now, so that I can actually say, ‘I told you so’ instead of ‘duh.’ (more professional).
    I noticed the problem when I went to the Santa Monica post office the other day. The helpful postal worker directed me out of the endless line and towards a machine. I told the machine that my box didn’t house anything explosive, and it was on it’s way to Chicago. Through a machine!
    MACHINES ARE TAKING OVER OUR LIVES. For some reason we’ve been putting up with it. We cringe but still deal with those horrifying automated systems we reach when we call corporations. You know– the ones whose “ears” pick up the tiniest sound in the room and tell you that your response wasn’t on the main menu. If those machines had nipples, I would pinch them with my toenail clippers, I would.
    But those now archaic machines were just the beginning. I recently went through a McDonald’s drive-thru (as a favor to a friend, I assure you) and guess who took my order? A machine. A MACHINE! McDonald’s thinks machines are better at saying, ‘Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?’ than a human. (Again, I was only there for a friend. A very unhealthy person who begged me to get her some fries. Not for me. It was for a friend.)
    At first I liked machines. The ones in the supermarkets especially. I always felt like cashiers were too slow anyway. And I happen to prefer purchasing my ice cream, glossies and bottle of wine on Friday nights without anyone knowing.
    But this has gone too far. What I saw this weekend has confirmed my suspicion that the end is near: a vending machine in Macy’s. And I wasn’t in the employee break room. That’s right. The one-time regal sport of dressing up and heading out to Marshall Field’s has now been replaced by a machine that spits out an acne solution or an iPod when you stick in a credit card.

    What is happening?
    We’re laying off humans left and right yet investing money in technology that will further obliterate even more jobs. There. I said it. Robots are taking over our jobs.
    Mark my words: January 20, 2010.
    So in 2050 when we’re all unemployed, sitting on stoops day in and out, buying dehydrated food pills with our electronic food stamps from the robotic ‘restaurant’ that drives by, I’m gonna have to say ‘I told you so.’
    You still don’t believe me? Check out this robot teacher in Japan. Yeah, a robot teacher. Who seems to have the same plastic surgeon as Michael Jackson. I’m guessing you’ll be able to pass a few notes in her classroom. Or maybe even pass an STD to your boyfriend in her classroom. Or shit on her desk before the bell rings.
    What is the world coming to? Say NO to technology. And NO to STDs and desk shitting in schools. Say NO to robots.

  • I’m a lucky bitch

    Today I’m off to Ikea. Gotta get some pots and plants and curtains and bedding.

    But I’ve been agonizing this whole week about the color scheme. If I paint one wall orange then it won’t match with the blue I had planned for the area rug that will go under the coffee table. And a sofa! Oh, lord, I’ve been to a million shops to find the perfect mid-century model that’s not too over budget.
    So here I go, off to the stores. And before I head out, I check the news. And I see this:
    And then I wonder… do I really need a couch or a color scheme? What am I doing not helping these people? I texted my ten bucks to the red cross. Whoop di doo.
    I’m so lucky. And I’m also a bitch.

    UPDATE: The Sofa salesman says that my buying a sofa helps Haitians because it fuels the US economy, which in turn gives us the resources to send aid. So go shopping. For Haiti!

  • Man, this blog is boring.

    Sorry. Moving is hard work. And not that interesting. Although I did sell some furniture to a couple from Craigslist last night. And it got weird because they starting arguing in my new place. That was pretty interesting.

    Anyway, hilarity will ensue on this here page very very soon.

  • Boxes full of boxes

    Moving sucks.

    Especially when you have lots of stuff.
    I have lots of stuff.
    Lots.
    It’s my fault that I can’t even fit myself into my new apartment. The first box I opened contained other boxes. Empty ones. Yes, the box my blender came in is pretty and all, but why did I think I would need it one day? And these four inoperable cell phones– what are they doing here alongside two full boxes of scraps from old suits? I must finally admit to myself that, no matter how much spare time I have, I will never create a full line of funky dresses made from old men’s suits (suits that are old, not suits of old men, although they could be from old men since I got them at thrift stores and one never really knows the origin of items found there, which I guess is sort of a blessing because what if they come from some gross house littered with cats and old half-chewed browned apples?)
    I admit it. I am a saver of unnecessary things. And I paid $150/month for the past year to make sure these things were safe.
    Oh well. At least it’s a reminder of how much I’ve learned to let go in the past year. Bye bye things. Bye bye school projects and expired beauty masks and broken appliances that I will never ever get fixed. Go party with my pager and Michael Jordan fruit snacks in the land of the landfill.
    Here’s to turning lots into little in 2010. I might toast to it if I could only find some glasses.