Tag Archives: Fun with Internet Memes

Fly your freak flag high

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or maybe this is not such a good advice.

Sigh. I have had a draft of this post for a couple of days now. I was going to write about how we should all let our hair down, show our true colors, and let our freak flags fly high. Way high.

To mix the cliches, we should fly that flag up and see who salutes.

I am too old, and life is too short, for all this shit of trying to fit in.

I was going to write about in the past two weeks, I had been under the duress of performance reviews (Oh, I absolutely hate writing self assessment and writing reviews for the others stressed me out to now end. I’d rather drink milk. Ok, maybe not. But you know what I mean. Maybe you don’t. Then good for you…) Due to the stress and the serious lack of sleep, I came a bit unhinged, according to my honest self assessment. I caught myself breaking into songs and dance moves at work. I was constantly invoking the  Hyperbole and Half’s meme: Answer ALL the emails! Invite ALL the peeps! Cancel ALL the meetings! Write ALL the reviews! Complete with the raised arm (which nobody else around me seemed to get…)

I believe it was unsettling for the people who sit nearby.

In my head, I saw myself walking over the edge, letting it all hang out, and I was at the same time feeling conflicted, not wanting to show my crazy at work. I wrote a co-worker that I was worried I have been flying my freak flag too high, kidding-on-the-square-ly, and he responded: Your freak flag is one of the few things that keep me going here. Keep your freak flag high.

I broke down and cried.

 

Hi, it’s me again. You know, the two straight-up vodka me. I can feel the alcohol working through my veins even as I am typing this. I know the feeling well. I am trying to NOT be drunk and I am very conscious of my drunkenness. I have to make extra efforts to keep myself lucid and carry a cohesive conversation and keep my voice at a socially acceptable decibel. I am also paranoid of people finding out that I am actually drunk so I try to stay as socially engaging as possible while mentally checking everything that I just said, and then try to dig myself out of it. My English becomes great. My accent is mostly gone. Two vodka me is awesome. Life at the party. (Note to self: Being “life at the party” is actually a sardonic phrase when everybody else is sober)

Well, all that immediately went out the window when I made a gesture wider than my brain could detect and control and knocked it down to the kitchen sink and broke it. All before 8 pm.

Yup.

So I am sitting here back at home wanting to cry because it was a party at the neighbor’s and all the other neighbors were there. I have already felt like an odd duck in this neighborhood. We were finally invited to a party! Maybe this time we could blend in and people would think that we are normal!

I am such a hypocrite, am I not? After all, I was the one the tweeted, facebooked and tumbled:

Today’s motto: Let your freak flag fly high.

And I made these memes because I was so damn proud of myself.

 

 

 

We are going to start a goddamn movement! Complete with a parade. With them flags!!!!!!

Seriously though? I am horrified to think that those people at the party are just going to think that my behaviors were due to my being drunk and rude and stupid: I mean, what kind of people got that drunk before 8, at a WINE party?! I don’t know why it bothers me so much. So just want to let you know. When I said I don’t care what others think, when I rah-rah-ed about how you just need to be yourself, when I encouraged you all to fly your freak flags high? That was more hypothetical. In an ideal world. If I were an ideal me. I would totally fly my freak flag. All. Day. Fucking. Long. And out in the open too.

I think I need to go to bed now.

I will fly my flag tomorrow. Sober too.

 

WTF Wednesday? Duh. Winning!

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This is a cheap shot and oh so predictable. But I need to pay homage to the latest Interweb sensation and not only an awesome Internet meme in the making but a generous provider of meme material.

Yes, my friend. I am talking about Charlie Sheen. My apology indeed. I know most of you are tired of hearing/reading about Sheen’s latest antics by now, but allow me to have some fun.

For two days now my co-worker and I have been saying,

Duh. WINNING!

to each other when something, um, AWESOME, happened at work, i.e. we have been saying this to each other or playing the sound wav. file a lot.

 

 

Many of you would argue that this man is far gone, that he needs immediate medical assistance. But I read the highlights of his rants and I cannot help but be impressed by his creativity and command of metaphors:

What they’re not ready for is guys like you and I and Nails and all the other gnarly gnarlingtons in my life, that we are high priests, Vatican assassin warlocks. Boom. Print that, people. See where that goes.

I’m freakin’ bayonets. I’m battle-tested bayonets, bro.

I’m an F-18, bro. And I will destroy you in the air. I will deploy my ordnance to the ground.

I wish him nothing but pain in his silly travels especially if they wind up in my octagon. Clearly I have defeated this earthworm with my words — imagine what I would have done with my fire breathing fists.

These insults are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my sabre.

… People that don’t have tiger blood, you know, Adonis DNA.

I’m extremely old-fashioned, I’m a nobleman, I’m chivalrous. I believe that chivalry is not dead, it’s just been in a coma for a while.

I’m sorry, man, I got magic, and I’ve got poetry in my fingertips.

 

And yes, you have all heard this golden nugget:

I am on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen. It’s not available because if you try it once you will die. Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body.

 

And seriously, these gems, if they had not been spoken by Sheen, would have been on a t-shirt or coffee mug somewhere:

Can’t is the cancer of happen.

Dying is for amateurs.

 

There is something to be said about this unabashed optimistic confident outlook on one’s own life and oneself.

I am not bi-polar. I am bi-winning.

I cured it with my brain, with my mind.

The only thing I’m addicted to is winning.

 

To be 100% honest, once in a while, I’d like to be able to say something like this without any trace of irony in my heart:

I’m tired of pretending like I’m not special. I’m tired of pretending like I’m not bitchin’, a total frickin’ rock star from Mars.

 

Ok, so at the end of the day, I guess the above serves as further proof he’s manic–depressive. However it turns out, I am going to be WINNING-ing in the office in the near future. Beats the Sad Trombone that we have been routinely using.

Duh. WINNING!

 

p.s. You can generate your own Winning rant with the Stark Raving Mad Libs (which I found through The Bloggess). Here is mine.

p.s.s. I found many applications for this new Internet Meme of WINNING: for instance, I used it this morning when I found the parking spot right next to the train station entrance empty even though I got there late. It could also be used sardonically to explain what some people were thinking when they said something that made everybody else go “What what?!”

 

This could be used to explain what these people were thinking when they said something that made everybody else go "What what?!"

 

Double L for Loser

 

p.p.p.s. You know who gets to say WINNING for realz? Robert Downey Jr. That’s who.

The REAL Comeback kid from drug rehabs and embarrassing arrests