I’m not a fan of comedian Sacha Baron Cohen, or his inspiration, Allan Funt of Candid Camera. It’s very easy to take people by surprise and make them look stupid, film them unawares and show them in the worst light.

I feel a little sympathy for Sarah Palin, who was ambushed by a comedian posing as a Canadian reporter asking for America’s help in fighting socialized medicine. If Palin had time to consider the issue, and maybe study up on it, she would probably not have supported dismantling Canada’s public health system. She would instead have tapped her gift for sounding forthright and committing to nothing, you betcha.

But she was caught with her guard down and spoke her mind. A unique mind seething with visions that her staffers try to keep her from revealing before the appointed time…

After being kicked out of the book-signing, [comedian Mary]Walsh and her crew then waited outside at a loading dock close to where Palin’s bus was parked. When Palin emerged from the Borders bookstore, Walsh said, Delahunty – dressed in a more toned-down version of her trademark warrior princess costume – called out to her.

“Hey, remember us, we’re the Canadians! We came all the way here from Canada!” Delahunty yelled. “When we asked you that question, we didn’t hear your answer.”

Palin strolled over, looking down on Walsh and her crew to tell them that “Canada needs to dismantle its public health-care system and allow private enterprise to get involved and turn a profit.”

“Basically, she said government should stop doing the work that private enterprise should do,” Walsh said.

In addition to those comments, Walsh said, she found it equally bizarre that no one was allowed to ask Palin any questions at the book-signing.

“It was great fun, but also very strange,” Walsh recalled.

“We’re in a bookstore, at a public event, in a place one would think was a bastion of free speech. And no one was allowed to ask questions. What are they afraid of?”

Well that should be obvious. They’re afraid of an unscripted moment, or a mis-speak, caught by the candid camera.

Palin is a master of the wink and the nod, but she has trouble when she has to stand by her words. She’s a politician who is a serious candidate for president, by some people’s standards. She’s experienced in dealing with the press and the public, she’s been tricked before by impostors, and should be better at spotting them.

But she’s only human. Anyone can have an unwary moment. And on film or tape you can replay that moment endlessly.

So if American politics is going to slow it’s long slide into incivility, meanness and ‘gotcha’ moments, we have to start putting the brakes on.

Consider the young, low-level ACORN staffers who were lured into giving advice to some young right-wing activists who posed as a pimp and a prostitute. They were surely unwarned, inadequately trained, and ACORN has paid dearly for that failure. ACORN has other internal financial problems and might not withstand the current investigations.

But to find the whole organization guilty of wrongdoing based on some employees falling prey to entrapment and secret taping would be as unfair as claiming that Sarah Palin has an agenda to dismantle the Canadian health care system, or that Newt Gingrich tried to sell intimate encounters with himself to strip club owners– just because his low-level staffers sent some letters. Interesting mailing list they have, though. That might bear some investigation.

Senator Sheldon Whitehouse, when speaking to constituents this Fall at the Butcher Block Deli, said that ACORN needed to be investigated, but that he did not support imposing the sentence before the trial.

If it’s all about sound bites, ‘gotcha’ and entrapment, could any of us stand up?

good day friends

i dont have any intention to write today

separuh ting tong sudah nih.

there is just something about this picture, that amazes me.

have fun watching girls

]]> http://backrest.wordpress.com/2009/11/24/agar-jepretan-foto-candid-menjadi-maksimal/ Tue, 24 Nov 2009 04:17:02 +0000 sambungsalah http://backrest.wordpress.com/2009/11/24/agar-jepretan-foto-candid-menjadi-maksimal/

Dalam fotografi, kita mengenal istilah candid camera. Ini berarti bahwa subjek yang kita potret tidak dalam kondisi berpose atau ’sadar’ kamera. Hasilnya pun terlihat lebih natural, spontan, dan tidak dibuat-buat.Untuk candid camera, kita tidak perlu dipusingkan dengan berbagai macam teknik yang rumit. Meski demikian, untuk mendapatkan hasil jepretan yang memikat, ada kiat-kiat khususnya. Berikut 12 tips jitunya :

1. Bawa kamera kemana pun Anda pergi. Siap-siaplah untuk menjepret setiap saat, karena momen menarik bisa hadir di depan mata kapan saja dan bisa menjadi foto liputan berharga Anda.

2. Perhatikan kondisi sekitar Anda. Hal-hal sederhana bisa menjadi objek menarik untuk dibidik dengan kamera Anda. Misalnya, pemilik toko yang tengah melamun, orang yang sedang menunggu kereta api, lansia yang duduk di sebelah Anda, duasejoli yang sedang berpacaran dan sebagainya.

3. Sigaplah untuk siap membidik, karena tidak mudah mendapatkan kesempatan untuk mengambil gambar secara candid. Jadi ketika ada momen bagus, jangan ragu untuk langsung menjepret.

4. Jangan terlalu memusingkan teknik-teknik lighting yang rumit. Berfokuslah pada teknik yang sederhana, dan gunakan fitur otomatis kamera. Ini akan memudahkan Anda. Berbagai masalah teknis, seperti gambar terlalu terang atau gelap dapat disiasati dengan editing komputer.

5. Setinglah kamera pada ISO 400, sehingga kamera menggunakan shutter speed yang cepat. Hal ini memungkinkan Anda untuk menangkap momen foto liputan dengan tepat meski Anda sedang bergerak.

6. Anda tidak perlu selalu memotret dengan kamera pada posisi mata. Mungkin, Anda bisa meletakkan kamera di pinggang saat mengambil gambar. Di sini memang dibutuhkan pengalaman dan keberuntungan untuk mendapatkan gambar yang bagus.

7. Gunakan lensa zoom paling maksimal sehingga Anda dapat menjaga jarak dari subjek jepretan Anda saat memotret.

8. Jangan pernah mengambil foto punggung orang, ini akan menghasilkan gambar yang membosankan

9. Cobalah untuk meng-convert gambar ke posisi ‘Black and White’ untuk mendapatkan hasil yang lebih emosional.

10. Momen ‘orang sedang melakukan sesuatu’ akan menjadi foto candid yang bagus. Misalnya, atlet, pedagang, petani. Cobalah untuk meng-capture inti dari pekerjaan orang tersebut. Misalnya, meng-capture tukang ledeng yang sedang berkutat memperbaiki pipa bocor atau yang lainnya.

11. Jika Anda berada di tempat umum, sah-sah saja memotret orang. Jika Anda merasa tidak enak untuk mengambil gambar orang tanpa sepengetahuannya, tak ada salahnya Anda meminta izin. Mintalah subjek untuk tidak berpose, bersikap senatural mungkin dan tetap melanjutkan aktivitasnya.

12. Jangan pernah bosan untuk berlatih dan mencoba terus-menerus. Cobalah berbagai macam angle, tempat dan scene yang berbeda-beda. Anda juga bisa mencari inspirasi dari foto candid orang lain. Latihan terus menerus akan mengasah kemampuan Anda.

http://limakaki.wordpress.com

A sleeping Laguanitc is slowly awaken by the following:

“Mommy, it’s time to get up………wakey wakey eggs and bakey…….it’s a sunny day outside…….mommmy, open your eyes…..time to wake up………mommy, wakey wakey……….the sun is shining……time to get up, mommy….”

I crack open an eyelid and open my arms to my cutie-pie son. We enjoy a sweet snuggle session.

“Julian, what do you want to do to day?”

“I want to go to school.”

Confusion.

I realize that the only possible explanation is that I’m on Candid Camera.

We’re midway through the first heat wave of the summer. I’ve been doing my best to devise new ways to keep cool…

If you are so inclined you can click that little ‘Keep Reading’ tag and take an in depth look at my somewhat unorthodox methods.

Oh, and yes, that is pubic hair. Just keeping it real, you know.

I was privileged to interview Phyllis George for my award-winning book, Pretty Smart: Lessons from our Miss Americas, about what it takes to be successful and follow a dream.  She’s back in the news on ESPN and will be seen in tonight’s airing of the documentary about Jimmy the Greek from her days as an NFL pre-game sportscaster.  Here’s an excerpt from Pretty Smart that gives some of her history.  (See prior “First Impressions” post about my first meeting with her.)

Me and Phyllis George at the Miss America Pageant

No lesson is ever lost – Phyllis George, Miss America 1971

Phyllis has never been satisfied with the status quo. Her mantra has always been that if you lose, don’t lose the lesson. She believes that you have to put yourself out there to gain higher ground. Throughout her life she has broken barriers and been a trailblazer.

As a newly minted former Miss America, she appeared in numerous commercials and was tapped to be the first female co-host on Candid Camera. She became the first female pre-game football sportscaster on national television, showcasing her signature style on CBS’s NFL Today for ten years. She co-hosted three Superbowls and six Rose Bowl parades. She later created two of her own prime-time shows on TNN, wrote five books, including two on the creative work of the hand, a cookbook and a self-help book, Never Say Never: Ten lessons to turn You Can’t into Yes I Can. She is in demand as an award-winning motivational speaker.

When she served as Kentucky’s First Lady during the 1980s, as the wife of Governor John Y. Brown, Phyllis took her boundless energy, restored the Governor’s mansion and wrote a book about the process. She went on to found the Kentucky Museum of Art and Craft and support Kentucky craftspeople by selling their work through major retail outlets such as Bloomingdale’s and Neiman Marcus.

Looking for her next project she started her own prepared food company in her kitchen. Chicken by George revolutionized the fresh prepared food industry and proved wrong those who said it couldn’t be done. It was so successful that Hormel Foods bought the company several years later. She has had a successful line of beauty products featured on a home shopping network. At fifty she made her movie debut in Meet the Parents.

Phyllis never says no when a good cause calls. Through Save the Children, Phyllis has sponsored children in Appalachia since 1980 and now serves on the board of three non-profit organizations including the Miss America Organization. Phyllis is listed in the Leading Women Entrepreneurs of the World, and the 50 Greatest Women in Radio & Television by American Women in Radio & Television. “In the 1970s I was on the cover of People Magazine as the ‘First Lady of the Locker Room.’ In the 1980s, I was again on the cover of People as the ‘First Lady of Kentucky.’ In the 1990s my best one yet: Poultry Processing Magazine put me on their cover as the ‘First Lady of Chicken.’ Now I can die a happy woman!”

But she’s not done yet. She was awarded the prestigious Rita Hayworth award for her work as an advocate and spokeswoman for the Alzheimer’s Association, a task she took on after her mother and best friend passed away from the disease. Phyllis’s most difficult role ever was as her mother’s primary long-distance caregiver for ten years. She is now writing a book on caregiving to help others dealing with this heartbreaking disease. When she talks about her television reporter daughter and her entrepreneur son, Phyllis glows with pride. The word “never” is not in this woman’s vocabulary.

Roni shares tales of Odessa, as told to him by his host, visits the Potemkin Steps and is featured on a staged hidden camera show, “Camera Funny”. [7:42]

The house is eerily quiet. The lover is at work, Viola is off shooting her first set for www.abbywinters.com, the housemate is making the most of Lady’s Day at the races and Jackson is sleeping rather than pacing about demanding attention. I kinda don’t know what to do with myself so am going to sloth about and eat crumpets in a bid to create a booty of astronomical proportions…

I’m kickin’ goals, I tell ya….

Oh, and if you’re slothing about too don’t forget to swing by OMG… so sexy! for your daily dose of free, handpicked porn.

Stamattina ho visto un cliente -le cui finestre sono pronte- e gli ho detto che per gravissimi problemi produttivi gli avrei consegnato il tutto non prima di febbraio: questo, a momenti dà uno schiaffo per terra, per cui mi sono sentito in dovere di tranquillizzarlo prima che svenisse, o che iniziasse ad insultarmi, confermandogli la consegna per fine settimana.
“Certo che lei è peggio di Scherzi a Parte, eh?” ha ridacchiato dopo essersi ripreso.
La chiacchierata è proseguita sull’argomento “scherzi” e mi sembra impossibile che una persona normale come quel signore possa credere che in quell’inguardabile programma ci sia una sola parola o immagine vera.

Ho avuto occasione di seguirne un paio di puntate -con un occhio solo- a casa di amici, fedele audience di quella schifezza nonchè pronti a scommettere un organo sulla genuinità degli “scherzi”. Sono persone a posto, ma non hanno mai avuto la perfidia o la voglia di perdere tempo per organizzare uno scherzo vero, quindi non sanno che effetto faccia.
Si parla di “perfidia” e di “tempo da perdere”?
Eccomi qua.

L’ho scritto anche nel mio profilo su Feisbuk:

Ci sono voluti anni, ma mi sono costruito una solida reputazione da scemo.

Sono parecchi anni, quasi una trentina, che non facciamo star male qualcuno con spaventosi scherzi telefonici: appena passi i ventanni ti manca quell’incosciente spietatezza necessaria per portare una persona sull’orlo di una crisi di nervi: ma una volta era diverso, rompere i coglioni era un obbligo morale, come il fumo a quattordicianni.
Ne parlo ora, nella speranza che se tra i miei lettori ci fosse qualche vittima innocente di allora, consideri il reato prescritto.

Credetemi sulla fiducia: quando ti tirano in mezzo in certe situazioni, non basta che tu senta “Sei su Scherzi a Parte” o su una qualunque Candid Camera per capire cosa sta succedendo.
Se lo scherzo è ben fatto, ci vogliono cinque minuti d’orologio, per riprendersi.

A parte questa mia esperienza “sul campo”, posso fornire altre prove: nel mio passato di autore televisivo ho collaborato ad un “famoso” -per l’epoca- programma tipo Candid Camera, in cui nulla, assolutamente nulla, era vero, come  tutto ciò che si vede in televisione, che siano drammi, litigi o Carrambate.
Non voglio fare nomi, non tanto perchè sarebbe sputare nel piatto in cui ho mangiato, ma piuttosto perchè oggi ci sono in giro un sacco di permalosi e di avvocati incazzati e beccarsi una querela è un attimo…
Dirò solo che noi ideavamo e scrivevamo le situazioni in un vero e proprio copione che le ignare vittime recitavano, con tanto di regista che urlava alla povera comparsa “Non guardare in macchina (telecamera, ndr), coglione, che sennò lo capiscono tutti!…”

Una trentina di anni fa non lo capiva nessuno, in quelle notti passate con Guido, Ezi, Squarcia e Ciccio, notti in cui l’unico verbo era “rompere i coglioni a qualcuno”.

La base era il retro del negozio dei genitori di Guido; allora non c’era identificativo chiamante e per beccarti bisognava che la Questura ti mettesse sotto controllo, ed anche così ci voleva il suo tempo; i telefoni avevano il disco combinatore e le linee avevano tutti contatti elettromeccanici, per cui, quando chiamavi uno, era come parlare in un tubo che quello teneva vicino all’orecchio, non come adesso che è tutto digitale e filtrato.

Tutto ruotava su un cardine: convincere la vittima del fatto di parlare con la Polizia o i Carabinieri, la cosa più facile del mondo, dopodiche eri il padrone della sua vita.
Attrezzatura necessaria: due registratori a cassetta col tasto “pausa”ed un captatore telefonico, che oggi si chiama vivavoce ed è su tutti i telefoni ma che, allora, era costituito da un microfono a ventosa che si appiccicava sul telefono e che mandava il segnale ad un altoparlante, che serviva da monitor di regia e che permetteva a tutta la banda di deficenti di ammazzarsi dal ridere.

In un registratore c’era il nastro con il segnale di libero (il “tut-tuut” che si sente ancora oggi), nell’altro, il segnale di chiamata (il “tuuut-pausa-tuuut” classico che si sente prima che l’altro risponda).
Tutto chiaro?
Bene.

Si individuava la vittima e si chiamava, rigorosamente dopo le due di notte.

I più bravi con l’accento meridionale eravamo io e Ciccio, che ci alternavamo al telefono: si parte.

-Vittima (con voce assonnata): Pronto?…
-Io o Ciccio: Parlo col signor XXX?
- Sì… ma chi parla?…
- È la Questura (o i Carabinieri). Abbiamo comunicazioni che la riguardano: ci richiami.
- Come…?… Cosa…?
-(Tono brusco) È il signor XXX, titolare dell’abbonamento n° 0131 xxxxx? (era semplicemente il suo numero di telefono, ma faceva un certo effetto…)
-Sì… certo… ma cosa succede?
-Ci richiami: abbiamo una comunicazione che la riguarda!
-Ma… mi dica… parli pure…
-Ma ha voglia di ridere? Potrebbe essere uno scherzo, non le pare? Ci richiami al 113 (o 112), così avrà la certezza di parlare con noi!…
- Ah, sì, mi scusi…

E così facendo, si era venduto l’anima al diavolo.

Ovviamente questo rimaneva un attimo col telefono in mano, inebetito, alchè…
-Riappenda! Non abbiamo tempo da perdere!…
E quello metteva giù, ma noi no, quindi restavamo in linea; quando sentivamo il rumore dell’apparecchio che veniva sollevato, facevamo partire il libero con il tasto pausa ed appoggiavamo la cornetta all’altoparlante del registratore.
Spesso sentivamo dei “Ma cosa sarà successo?… Oddio, speriamo niente di grave…”

Oggi mi vergogno come un ladro.
Allora ci pelavamo dal ridere.

Quando la vittima cominciava a comporre il numero, si metteva in pausa il libero e si faceva partire il segnale di chiamata. Dopo pochi squilli, pausa.
- Centotredici, dica!…
- Scusi, è il centotredici?
-Sì, centotredici, dica!…

Era fatta: la vittima era in linea con la Polizia!

-Guardi, non so… mi avete appena chiamato voi…
-Attenda, sento il collega…
Ripartiva il segnale di chiamata: questa fase poteva durare anche alcuni minuti, durante i quali la vittima cuoceva a fuoco lento.
-Pronto!…
- Sì… sono XXX, mi avete chiamato…
- Ah, sì, giusto lei!…
E così il Maresciallo Carotenuto (in onore dell’indimenticato Vittorio De Sica di “Pane, amore e fantasia”) informava il malcapitato che dal suo telefono erano partite telefonate ingiuriose nei confronti di Don XXX, parroco di XYZ.
- Ma sta scherzando, maresciallo? Si figuri se io…
- Come si permette? Mando lì una pattuglia a prenderla, poi vediamo se sto scherzando!…
- No no, per carità! Dicevo così…
- Ecco, non lo dica più, che la sua situazione è già abbastanza grave così…
Ed il maresciallo spiegava che il “cervellone” aveva individuato in modo inequivocabile l’apparecchio da cui partivano le chiamate ingiuriose all’indirizzo del sant’uomo, frasi volgari inventate sul momento, tra cui trovava sempre posto un bel “cazzo in culo non fa figli ma fa brodo per conigli”, anzi, proprio quella era la frase più ricorrente, per cui il maresciallo chiedeva alla vittima di ripeterla…
Questo poveruomo era sveglio da mezzora, spesso circondato dalla famiglia preoccupata…

Cristo, se mai ho provato rimorso per qualche cagata, questa le supera tutte.

Prima della frase, per “tarare l’apparecchiatura”, il maresciallo gli faceva dire l’alfabeto:
- Oh santo cielo… A B C D E…
- Piano, piano!… La macchina deve scannerizzare e così satura il compressore dinamico!… (che è l’equivalente di dire “sfrizza la velopendula…”). Piano, lentamente, come i numeri del Lotto…
- Oh Gesù…   A…      B…     C…
Così fino alla Z: un minuto di puro tormento.
- Bene, ora l’alfabeto inglese, visto che sono state proferite frasi in varie lingue…

Sembra una minchiata, eh? Ma la vittima stava parlando con la Polizia…
E così ’sto poveraccio ricominciava, incasinandosi sulla J, che il maresciallo definiva “la I di Juventus” o sulla Y, che diventava “la I fatta a fionda”…

Per ora lasciamoli lì.
Non so se ho il coraggio di proseguire: vediamo domani…

Dottordivago

It’s the lover’s birthday tomorrow. We’ve cracked open a bottle of vintage champagne and I’m baking a chocolate cake. I feel this bra is appropriate attire for such activities, yes? I hope Viola will babysit the dog while we get our freak on….

Monday’s handpicked porn selection awaits you at OMG… so sexy!

Now that I’m happily employed, my mom has taken it upon herself to find me a boyfriend.  This seems pretty normal because I guess all mothers want the best for their kids, however knowing my mom, she will use her Type A+++ personality and put everything she has into this quest.

When I was looking for jobs, my mom took it upon herself to email me countless craigs list and hotjobs links every morning.  I would open my gmail and see about ten separate emails with titles like “Thought you might want to see these…” or “These are good!!” or “ALISA!  LOOK!!”  Granted, it was one of these very emails that contained the ad for my current job so as usual…YOU WERE RIGHT, MOM.  (That physically hurt but I have to give credit where credit is due).

I’m just worried that now I’ll wake up to a barrage of very different emails: “Alisa, he’s Jewish AND he’s studying to be a doctor!”  OR “Alisa, he seems good!” OR “Alisa, he’s Jewish and speaks Russian…your grandparents will be able to communicate with him…jackpot.”  It’s not that I’ve ever had trouble dating.  It’s just that I typically date trouble.  Now that college is over, I figure it’s time to find someone that knows how to return phone calls and texts.  A text message doesn’t take that fucking long, asshole.  I’m sure you could have found a second during your “busy” booze-filled weekend to say “hi, how r u?” without straining yourself. But I digress.  I need to find a way to transition from dumbass douchebags to decent men without taking the eharmony route because I’m sure that some matches don’t end up being very eharmonious.  Jdate is also a scary thought because other than a few key Yiddish phrases, I’m essentially a Shiksa Jew and no [insert stereotypical Jewish name] is going to want to marry that.

Also, there’s another problem.  I don’t plan to get married for quite a while.  I’m not trying to bear children until I have reached my career goals.  I am a woman of the 2000’s.  I don’t need to pop out an army of kids so they can work in my farm.  I adore children but I also love the parents that I can give them back to when they cry.  I will make a great mom someday (I promise I will get rid of my potty mouth…eventually) but there is definitely no rush. 

So guys, if you’re looking for a sarcastic but harmless, slightly neurotic, Jewish but not really, Russian but can’t hold my alcohol, independent person, then I am your girl.

Call me!  You can get my number from my mom.

My mom's keyboard

Halloween was a rather dignified affair. I did not vomit Absinthe all over a hotel bathroom half way through a BDSM session or galavant around London with returned soldiers and a bottle of Moët in each hand (as with previous years) so I’m quite proud of my restraint. Here is a snap of Viola and I prior to our evening of chèvre &  cocktails… well, Tom Collins for me and mock Screwdrivers for her as she doesn’t drink:

We’re having a lazy Sunday. How about you have one too and relax with my handpicked porn selections for the sabbath? Check them out here.

Il Marketing sta cambiando. La pubblicità non è più quella di una volta.
Si potrebbero scrivere pagine e pagine su questo argomento, sul nuovo marketing, quello “non-convenzionale”. Ma si sa, un’immagine vale più di mille parole.

Allora eccovi uno flashmob organizzato da T-Mobile.

La chiusura di questo post è però dedicata allo scherzo che Heineken ha rifilato a 500 tifosissimi del Milan, proprio la sera della partita dell’anno, quella al Santiago Bernabeu contro i “blancos” del Real.
Immaginate di ricevere un invito per una serata di musica da camera e di dover andarci per forza… sarebbe straziante!!!
Come è andata a finire?… Guardate qui

Se l’articolo ti è piaciuto votalo cliccando qui

Technorati: real madrid, milan, heineken, video, scherzo, candid camera, marketing

I was wondering whether or not I should continue with this blog because I’ve found a job to keep me pretty busy but then I decided to think of the greater good.  What else are you people going to do?  Be productive at your respective jobs?  Yeah, didn’t think so.  Therefore, I will extend your ride on my LOLercoaster and continue amusing with my random musings.

I’m not feeling very inspired today but I’m sure it won’t be long until there’s another balloon boy-esque scandal, or someone talks about idiotic things, or Megan Fox talks in general.  I’m here to stay bitches

xoxo

Alisa

In that case, I'll figure out a caption later too

My INKling (shut up, I tried) to get ink’d has caused a bit of turmoil in our house because, basically, the madre is not on board with the idea.  I mean, up until a few years ago I wasn’t either but I realized that tattoos don’t have to be trashy.  Huge epiphany, I know.

Seriously though, how many girls in 1998 thought it would be absolutely adorable to get a chinese symbol or a flower right above their ass crack?  They had no idea that in a few years, their artsy and “like, totally symbolic” ass crack would become known as a “tramp stamp.”  That chinese symbol became universally translated to “I’m a huge slut.  For real, guys.  Anyone will do.”  It’s sad because I’m sure some of those girls aren’t sluts…all the time.  Therefore, I was afraid to commit to something that might lose or change meaning in a few years. 

I knew that if I got a tattoo, it would have to be something that I would never regret.  Mostly because my mom’s main argument was, “What if you get something that you regret?”  The only impulsive thing I’ve ever done is get my nose pierced but even that required a two hour conversation with the parents where points like, “Alisa, what if you get brain damage and die?” were brought up.  “Mom, I highly doubt they can damage my brain more.”  Since she couldn’t argue with that rebuttal, I won my case and got my cute nose piercing.

Also, I know I won’t regret my tattoo because I already know what I’m getting.  It’s going to say “Mechtai” or “Always Dream” in Russian and the last letter will be attached to a pen.  See?  It’s going to be adorable and subtle and it’s going on my foot, which isn’t a particularly slutty body part.  I have soooo thought this shit through.  My life experience has taught me that it’s always important to dream because it keeps you ambitious and motivated and it will be written in Russian, which clearly represents the motherland.  The pen symbolizes my love of writing (obviously).  I wrote my first poem in third grade, kept journals filled with my “profound” thoughts (I literally have filled about 60 notebooks.  Oy),  I went to high school for literary arts, one of my majors was English, I fuck around with this blog etc. etc.  Writing will always be a part of me and now it can ACTUALLY be a part of me too.

I pretty much have my parents convinced and they know that they’re losing so they gave it one last weak attempt: “Alisa, you won’t be able to get buried in a Jewish cemetary.”  Holy Shitsteinberg!  My life-long dream of decomposing with other Jews isn’t a reality anymore???!!!  OH NO!    Just donate my body to science or something.  They’ll either find a cure for all major diseases because my brain is a huge blackhole of random OR I’ll be one of the skeletons that adorn most high school bio classes.  Win/win situation?  Absolutely.

So after I get over my fear of needles and more specifically, thousands of them stabbing me simultaneously,  I am going to do it.  It’s time for a change.  I was also thinking of getting something that represents my love of travel…but I guess I’ll save that for the second tattoo.

Tribal tramp stamp?? Helloooooo marriage material.

I guess it’s only natural to have the urge to attach yourself to something bigger.  I mean, no one talks about Googling themselves but we ALL do it.  Or is it just me?  (I have like three entries, bitches!)  People want to find deeper meanings within themselves so they go searching for it on the interwebs.  Why else are so many of my facebook friends taking those beyond retarded facebook quizzes that clutter my newsfeed?  What does he find sexy about you?  Find out by answering ten multiple choice questions.  Umm, actually, it’s probably the fact that you put out on the first date.  I’m no facebook quiz-maker but that might have something to do with it.

Another way that we look at ourselves is through music and more specifically, music that features our names.  My name has a pretty interesting backstory, actually.  Back in the Soviet stone age (1987, respectively) you couldn’t just come up with any name.  No, there were no Orangello’s, Pilot Inspektor’s and Placenta’s running around because the government wouldn’t allow such nonsense.  You had to choose a common name or else you couldn’t get it put on the birth certificate.  Well my parents the rebels decided to send a lively “fuck you” to the government by naming me Alisa.  According to them, “You were one of the first Alisa’s to be born in Zaporizhye.”  Clearly one of my greatest achievements, by far.

Despite the supposed rarity, there was a song that came out before my birth called “Alisa” and it was about this really lonely girl who sits on her window sill eating large amounts of chocolate while waiting for a boy who never shows up.  I shit you not.  THANKS MOM AND DAD!  ‘Cause that totally isn’t the story of my life.  It makes me wonder if life imitated art or the other way around?  UPDATE: I FOUND IT ON YOUTUBE!  You won’t get the lyrics but just know that they’re kind of depressing…like me.

Think about it.  Before “Twilight” came out, Bella was a very common Russian and Italian name.  When I used to think of Bella, I thought of a hefty Russian farm girl with no future.  But now I associate that name with the bitch that makes out with Robert Pattinson.  It’s amazing how perspectives can change.  What about the names in “Mambo No. 5?”  Monica, Jessica, and Rita became relevant overnight.  In fact, they’re still permanently and painfully seared into my brain, much like the song itself.  I’m sure there are a ton of Billie Jean’s out there and while they might not all be whores sans baby daddy’s, that’s the first thing that I will always think of…because I am politically incorrect…and I’m on Michael’s side.  The kid totally was not his son.

I bet you think I’m going somewhere with this.  And you, my friends, would be so wrong.  As usual I’m just trying to find shit to do while unemployment grips me in its constant chokehold.  Also, I came across “Alisa” by Ariel Pink and while some (Ariel Pink himself) claim that it’s about his wife, we all know it’s about me.  I mean someone owes me a happy song after all those years of chocolate binges and bad relationships.  Right??

Non ho mai postato “Candid Camera” perché non mi ha mai entusiasmato come tema, questa però merita.