Erin Heatherton (via thingsthatexciteme)
Erin seems like the Zooey Deschanel typology for guys who aren’t self-loathers. More dream girl, less manic pixy (which is to say, pygmalion).
As Internet culture has grown, we’ve come to romanticize certain kinds of unmediated, old-fashioned “human” interactions. But this fantasy ignores how much of normal social interaction is fleeting, bite-size, instant, tweetlike. Humans have always talked to each other via a kind of analog Twitter. These new technologies just get us there with maximum efficiency. Meeting a new person is thrilling, in a primal way—your attention focuses completely, if only for a nanosecond, to see if the creature in front of you has the power to change your life for better or worse. ChatRoulette creates this moment over and over again; it privileges it over actual conversation. Eventually, I realized that clicking “next” was not so much a rejection as it was pure curiosity, like riding a train past an apartment building at night, looking briefly into as many lit windows as possible.
Is ChatRoulette the Future of the Internet or Its Distant Past? New York Magazine (via somethingchanged)
Chat Roulette is everything social media wishes it could be. It’s reckless abandon, it’s visceral, it’s saying “fuck it” to 140 characters and all the bullshit status updates from your asshole bosses and friends with newborns and pulling your dick out or shaking your ass doing whatever you can to captivate or entertain in the one-second timeframe before someone can NEXT your ass, it’s the opposite of a filtered, calculated online identity. And a lot of dicks and asses too.
Party (& Bullshit) in the U.S.A
(via natashavc/molls/channel-z)
Is it meant to read like William Shatner’s Rocket Man, or like when white shitheads throw an ironic countryclub version of Boyz N Tha Hood, or did some pre-teen girl overcome with emotion from her first period really, sincerely write “infinite miles per hour?”
A few footnotes for the footnotist:
a. Whatever club in LA this bitch is going to in baggy jeans fresh off the turnip truck fucking sssuucks (Club DV8 / Menagé, I’m looking in your direction).
2. Unless this wide-eyed character looks like a total landmonster, the weekly forecast for those peachy, glossy lips calls for a big bag of dicks (ed. note: thank god!) from any bros willing to put up with her schizophrenia, her “strength,” and her bullshit about personal brand.
i. The title of my post comes from this
ii. Wale has an infinitely more accurate take on girls who come to LA
d. Do you think that, “Are you from Tennessee?” line works on her?
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Notes
PLOWED - Sponge
A lot of people I know were barely alive when this was released. They’ve never heard of Empire Records, and never had an Empire Records kind of job because kids just don’t do that anymore. I was in a club a few nights ago and when a Justin Timberlake song came on someone I was with screamed, “omg this is soooo old school!”
Whatever, all I’m saying is not every day can be Rex Manning Day, but it makes those ones extra special… don’t burn out trying to make every experience an adventure. If you’re doing it right, adventure will find you.
