"Oh, I see," says the man. "I'm so sorry about that! Go ahead and unplug the device."
From my bed, I shout, "Guys. You need to tell him that there are two movies in there."
"We live in a dorm?" says Erin, as Roomie and I crack up. "And somebody decided it was a good idea to put in another DVD after the first one got stuck."
"Oh. Right," the poor man says, doing a great job at sounding unaffected by our stupidity. He asks us to read him all the complicated product codes and for Roomie's phone number. After we discover them, the man says, "Can I ask what the two movies are?"
Roomie and I look at each other and stifle laughter. I call out whatever generic porn titles I can think of (MILFs R US! Barely Legal Blondes!") and Roomie blushes. "Um, American Pie," she squeaks. "And Elf."
And that, dear readers, is a glimpse into an average afternoon on my floor. We just ended the call and allowed the Toshiba man to return to dealing with other idiots, but we're still smiling. I can't imagine he really needed to know the names of the DVDs in order to help us get them out of the television. He probably asked to enhance his rehashing of the "Wow, people are so dumb" story of the day at the office. Hey, if I can provide entertainment to bored Indian American men around a water cooler, I consider today a success.
Anyway, I wish I could have blogged last night. I had a ton to tell you about the fun that followed the dorm movie party-- how me, Heather, and these two cool guys, Sean and Ben, hung out literally all night long, etc.-- but I never got the chance. I came back to my dorm from my sister's house later than I should have, considering the paper I had to write for the next morning, and my room was filled to the brink with my roommate's friends. I like them, and I never mind their presence, but I had a ton of work to do, needed a shower desperately, and wasn't at all in the mood to see people in my bed or desk chair. Frazzled, I turned to grab my laptop and find somewhere else to do my homework. Where was my computer?
In one of the boys' laps, that's where. A boy whose name I don't even remember was on my computer, with his own laptop sitting right next to it. I stared at him, trying to conceptualize what would make a stranger think it was okay to use my computer when I wasn't even in the room. "Um..." I said, taking it from him.
"Wait!" he yelled as he grabbed my laptop back from me. "I'm in the middle of a really important conversation on facebook." For reasons unknown, because I am naturally passive and incapable of sticking up for myself, I allowed him about three more minutes with my most expensive and personal belonging in his grubby hands. Meanwhile, he used HIS OWN computer to play loud, headachey music, which of course had to be THE WORST KIND OF MUSIC. I'm talking about freaking covers of Oasis songs. And people yelling into practically peaking microphones. And all the while I'm standing in my own room, stressed about the load of work I've bestowed upon myself, wondering what important websites and/or documents a stranger is accessing.
Wow. I wasn't irritated about that anymore until I brought back those emotions. (Talk about method acting!) What I am irritated about, however, is youtube. I wasted some time this afternoon watching my old favorites from 2007, back before everything was monetized, and when the truth about lonelygirl15 was news, and when Boh3m3 mattered. Sure, there wasn't widescreen or HD, and yeah, thewinekone didn't know how to use lights. But all those old videos seemed so genuine. People could mention a brand name without it being product placement, and the use of copyrighted music wasn't a real threat yet because the audiences were as small and intimate as making a movie for a school project. You could count on your fingers the important "youtube celebrities." If a vlogger made a decent video, he or she would be featured, and the entire community would know them in a month's time. I signed up for this website, and while I'm thrilled it's become what it has, and I adore so many artists I would have never known about had Google not taken over, I really miss the old days.
On top of that, it's sick how much cattiness money has caused. Networking is awesome and all, but now it's become less of a fun game and more of a competition to have higher numbers and more feedback than similar people across the globe. It bothers me the amount of revenue everybody is churning nowadays from something that was once a free environment for artists. Honestly, yeah, I've benefitted financially, and I would never want to trade that ability. But I'm not mad about the incredible possibilities presented to us by the site's owners; I'm mad at the individual content creators knocking down the Garden of Eden and building a smokestack factory. There's nothing wrong with receiving revenue for the hard work you put out, but I'm not sure I support those who market videos and products with the sole intention of raking in profit.
Sigh. And to top that off, I'm angry with a handful of specific "youtube people" for various reasons. Some relate to money, as you can probably assume from that rant, but other grudges I'm carrying are for personal reasons. I hate that people I love have to endure criticism from complete strangers regarding their personal lives. I hate the actions of certain people that create a vehicle for this criticism. I hate that I can't just stomp on that person's face, or say hateful things about them, because 1) I'm a more advanced human being than that, and 2) I'm not physically close enough to cause them harm, even though 3) I could probably beat their scrawny ass in a fight.
I'm done now. Sorry to subject you innocent readers to my venting. Besides constantly worrying about Jess (the dog she's had and adored her whole life is sick and running out of time), I've been doing really well, actually. Contrary to how I may sound from all that above bitching, I'm not in an overall bad mood at all. I fell in love with xkcd today, and, of course, I witnessed that funny conversation with the man at Toshiba. Also, I just received a text from Michal stating that she suspects her mother reads my blog? If this is true, I apologize, ma'am, for sounding like such a stereotypical teenager. Your daughter is lovely, though!
Sexy: Old Goodies, like this video.
Unsexy: The fact that record companies are among the all-time most subscribed lists, and the fact that the old favorites like Brookers and TheHill88 are nowhere to be seen on the front pages.
Chipotle burritos this year: 31
Bagel Street visits this school year: 4
Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3