Justin Biebers, Taylor Swifts, Broadway Actors...OH MY!

So last night, I posted a status on facebook that was, even I'll admit, a bit harsh, but demonstrated my feelings well.  Most commenters agreed wholeheartedly with my words, and pretty much everybody in school agrees as well, and laud me for posting what they've been dying to say ever since this certain individual burst into the music scene and sent me sobbing for the days when Bach and Beethoven walked this Earth.

Aww, such a pretty girl.

The singer:  Justin Bieber
Age: 16
Voice: High soprano (as in...young, little girl voice)
Famed for: sideswept, very salon treated hair, undropped balls, and suicidal, screaming, sadistic, Selena-hating stalker fangirls.  Oh, and apparently they send death threats to any other girl who looks at him.  Like...Kim Kardashian.

Seriously, out of all the people in the world, the Kardashians are pretty good to pick a fight with.  You know Khloe and Kourtney will be there at the door threatening to wax your nether regions, and that Scott Disick will come in and take all your money.  And don't even get me started on the mom.  After Khloe went to jail for....an hour and a half, she burst into IHOP crying into her oatmeal and cursing all that is wrong with the California legal system.  A truly devoted mom, especially when you take into consideration that her daughter was serving a DUI.  Oh Kardashians.  Fangirls, I suggest you go into hiding now.

See?  They're frightening.

Anyways.  Back to the issue at hand.

Status: Justin Bieber is an embarassment to society.  Poor Canadians :[

Seeeeee??? I'm sure most of you would agree.  I don't mean that the boy himself is an embarssment to society, since he could be a very nice, little brotherly like kid.  It's the trademark Justin Bieber that pisses me off.

For one, his new status as 'musician of the year.'  I'm sorry, but the boy is not deserving of that award.  Yes, he's a big influence on today's youth, and should be celebrated as 'Celebrity Influence of the Year to Tweenage Girls' or, 'Media Focus of the Year'.  But what exactly has he done to benefit the music industry?  (Okay, so he brought in millions last year.....but still.) 

Last night, I watched eight interviews with Justin Bieber...legit interviews.  Like the one with Ellen, one with Access Hollywood, one with Barbara Walters...and I hardly ever heard him mention his music.  I hear his philantrophy, his love for his fans, and his appreciation for his fame.

BUT WHERE IS THE MUSIC?!?! IS HE A SINGER OR NOT?!?!

I've always held singers in high regard, first and foremost for how much they devote themselves to their art.  Actors, when interviewed, should talk about why they chose the movie they filmed, how they connected to the role, how they felt about the storyline, what they did to prepare themselves.  That's what I'm interested in.  I'm not going to pay $15 a movie twice a month, meaning $360 a year to watch movies about someone who seems to only act because it means she can run around in a bikini and get pictures taken.

Yes Megan Fox, I'm dissing you.  You're a terrible actress.  At least Kristen Stewart, who's one of the worst actors I've ever seen, talks about how she immerses herself in the role and feels that she and Bella have become one person.  It's what acting is.  Acting to me is therapy.  It's a chance to step out of your own grievances for three hours (if we're talking theatre) and step into someone elses shoes, completely taking your mind out of whatever is troubling you and assuming the role of the part, who should become either a good friend, or a bad enemy.

Phantom of the Opera is known for hiring only the best actors to perform as the title character, and John Cudia is no exception.

His acting is absolutely remarkable, and you can definitely see it in his face, (and the pile of drool by my feet) that John Cudia has exited the world, and in his place is a true Le Fantome.  He was enveloped by the role, and that's what I'll always remember him for.  When I got to meet him afterward, I knew that it was not in my place to mention anything about how gorgeous he was, how his eyes seemed to be golden (they were actually blue.  Figures), but instead, ask him why he acts, and how he manages to put himself in his role.  Answer?  He doesn't focus on his personal life at all (with the equally nice Kathy Voytko Cudia and Baby Alena), but rather lets them go for those hours he's in the mask.  That's what makes him one of the most successful actors to ever be in the role.

Oh haysoos, I really think I have ADHD.  We went from my hatred of Justin Bieber to my love for all things Phantom.

Anyways.  In those interviews I watched, his regards to his music career was "Oh yeah, new album out tomorrow.  [So and so] is the song I'm promoting.  Now, let's talk about girls."  He shouldn't be regarded as the musician of our current time if he can't even talk about his music, or have the desire to talk about his music. 

Which leads me to his fans, and his public image.  I don't like the Jonas Brothers.  I do think they're extremely cheesy, and their voices kind of sound like a dog puking up macaroni and cheese. (SO not pleasant).  But I appreciate Nick so much for blocking inquisitions of his personal relationships and focuses on his passion for his art.  The kid's talented.  Check out his run in Les Miserables...a complete failure based on the legacy left by Michael Ball, but for a Jonas Brother, he's come amazingly far.

Justin Bieber, on the other hand, focuses too much on his current fans, the tweenage crusaders.  It's obvious they love him, and he loves them back, but they're never going to stay with him.  Because of the "perfect golden boy" image he gives them, and his constant, shameless flirting, they're all dying to fall in love with him, and go to his shows with the fantasy that he'll see her, fall in love, and they'll go happily riding off in a carriage to go play in the McDonalds playplace.  With parental chaperones, of course.

But what's going to happen when he gets a girlfriend?  Case in point, Selena Gomez:

Ummm...first things first.  The girl's got a slit up to thaaarrr and he looks like he's 10.  This is like me and my 12 year old brother having a brother-sisterly love moment, which hasn't happened since we were 2 and 7 and my mom forced us to have baths together to save money.

But his fans are going to stay with him.  They're going to refuse to buy his albums, boycott his concerts, pretend he's dead until he breaks up with her, and marry them.  I suppose we could just boycott him, at which point I'd move to Canada.

Oh wait, he's FROM Canada.  AAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!  There goes my country of choice when America goes under.  Now where do I go?  Madagascar to live with Alex the Lion and whatever the zebra's name is?  Though the penguins there make good sushi.  Maybe I'll just build myself a beach house, hook up the Wi-Fi and enjoy paradise.

Today at lunch, we were discussing this issue, and my friend Hayley mentioned that Justin Bieber is either 12, or a very pretty girl.  WHICH IS TRUE ON BOTH ACCOUNTS!!

12.   There is no effing way that this boy is 16.  And from where I found this picture, apparently he was 16 when this was taken.  WTFFFFF.

And see?  Lovely girl...looks kind of like Shirley Temple back in her prime.

Mhmm.  Looks a lot like this chick here.  Who actually is a girl.

Enter Debbie Ryan (star on Disney's Suite Life on Deck, one of the most annoying shows I've ever seen)

But no...while girlifying Justin Bieber brought significant amounts of joy into my miserable life (we're required to run a 5K in yoga.  YOGA.  I signed up for yoga to get easy PE credit and graduate, not to slip in the ice for an hour), there is no way that I'm thinking negatively of him for that.  Though I'm quite grudgeful about the fact that he can wear eye makeup better than I can.  No matter how good it looks when I first put it on, 10 minutes later it all slides off.  I blame the asian-eyeball ness.  It just doesn't work.

No, I don't like Justin Bieber for his lack of musicianship.  Say what you want about Taylor Swift, but she's got fantastical musical abilities.  True, her voice...isn't the most refined and I worry about her issues with pitch, but her songs speak to people.  Really, really speak.  Being in high school, I don't think there's a single girl who hasn't listened to a Taylor Swift song and related it to her life.  Yes, yes...teenage drama is trivial and stupid, and I'm going to be the first to say that.  But it happens.  Nothing's going to stop it.  Quite frankly, nobody helps it too.  Two years ago, getting brushed off by a boy I liked was the worst possible thing that ever happened to me.  Revenge, was the only thing that can calm down an angry teenage girl.

Hell hath no fury like a pissed off teenager with equally pissed off friends.  Their screaming alone will kill the poor, unsuspecting boy.  Obviously...we've matured a bit since then.  But Taylor Swift's songs help so much.  I remember when Teardrops on My Guitar first came out, it tells you, I was there once too, but now I'm okay and you'll be fine.  It's okay to cry.  That holds true.

I'm forever going to relate my teenage years back to Taylor Swift's music, because it helped me get through relatively unscathed. 

Teardrops on My Guitar

                                 

Fifteen

                                      

In a world where sex, drugs, and bad choices seem to take the minds of so many teenagers, her music is really one of those things that keep kids on the right track.  I know so many kids from choir, school, church...who've been inspired to create good music like she does.  Case in point, my friend Sarah.  She was never a singer, but is inspired by Taylor Swift and now writes pretty dang spectacular songs.

I tried writing one too, and it ended up having the worst puns, something about the BP oil spill, and lots of references to Panda Express.

I think I'm going to stick with the singing, which is definitely going to be my ticket into college.

Anywhoooooo...this rant took place from 1pm this afternoon, when my eyes started glazing over from the lovely Californian representative's schpeal about...heck, I don't even know what he was talking about to right now...which is 7:09.

I know I'm going to get flamed for it.  True, I've had many arguements about whether or not Justin Bieber is talented.  My opinion?  There are so many boys in my choir who are much more deserving of a record deal and recognition.  Sure, he can be a nice person, but until he fixes his image, I personally, won't a fan.  Which, is entirely up to my choice, and nobody has the right to call me out on it.  Because I bet you, at one point in your life, you have felt this way about someone else in the public eye.  And just like you have no right to judge me based on how I feel, I have no right to judge you on how you feel.  Of course, I do welcome debates...as long as you've got a valid point.

It bugs me so much when an arguement goes like this.

Me:  I don't like Kristen Stewart because of the way she just stands there and doesn't act and blurts every single line out with no emotion.

Opponent: but shes BELLLLLAAA!! YOU cant be hatttting on BELLLLLAAA!!!

Me: Yes.  I can.  Because of all the actresses that vyed for the role, the one with two facial expressions was casted. 

Opponent: OMGEEE ur gunna go to hell becuz you h8 Kristen

Me: Why am I going to hell for not liking her style of acting?

Opponent: becuz edwird luvs her and no t you so THERE!

Me: I'm going to call your parents to send you to remedial english.  The amount of spelling errors you've got going on there isn't just a problem, it's an illness.

Yeah.

Mmk guys...that's all for now.  I'm sorry for posting an offensive blog...but after many discussions with my friends, we are just so baffled by the phenomenon that is Justin Bieber. 

RANDOM:

Who else was all jawdropped at the Republicans version of the Constitution today?  

My opinion of the move to repeal Amendment 14...is very lengthy and is best left unsaid.

Instead...we'll discuss the fact that they tried to read the Constitution and missed a good chunk of it.

Actually, no we won't.  I'm still laughing too hard to talk :D

A happier, less opinionated post will be coming up shortly about...dun dun dun...my cooking experiences.

You know, when I first picked the design for this blog, I randomly selected one and went back to googling bumpits.  Yes, bumpits.  They're quite great you know!

Aren't they FABULOUS?!  Like the cast of Jersey Shore, it takes a lot of skill to look that cheap. 

As I finish up my college applications (Or...get started on some), I've realized something.  I hate the sun, I hate the rain, and I hate the south.  So why am I applying to schools in California, Washington and Virginia??  Anyways, here's breakdown of the schools I'm applying to.   Or...was going to apply to.  Since I've sort of given up on them.

BYU: (Provo, Utah)  I've realized I'm never going to get in, since they pretty much require a 3.75 average, and I am so far below that that I can't even see it.  So I really don't know why I applied to this one.  Maybe because it was right there so I clicked the button.  I really like clicking buttons.  Anyways, I don't know how I feel about Mormon school.  I'm quite strong in my beliefs, it's just....I'm not your typical happy sappy little Mormon girl.  In fact, I'm quite bitchy and I hate children.  THEY SMELL FUNNY.

BYU Idaho: Pretty sure where I'm going to go, only the issue is...they don't allow flip flops.  Seeing that I wear flip flops and only flip flops from April-October...this is going to be odd.  Shall I just go barefoot?  Or maybe those squishy barefoot enthusiasts thingies that look like alien feet.

Aren't they...stylish?  I wonder if they come in. pink.  Maybe with a bow on top and then I can start matching them to my clothes.  I wonder if it's hard to stick your toes into the individual toe-holes.  I never did have success with toe socks, even though I had very nice powder blue ones with penguins and snowflakes on them.  I don't remember doing so, but apparently I got mad one day and stabbed my foot in them in a total "FOR NARNIA" fashion and now there's only four toes left.  Oops.

Speaking of Narnia...that was an absolutely amazing movie.  There was one part when Ben Barnes (one of the 957265 loves of my life) is wearing a poofy, white shirt and falls into the water to save the equally loved Skandar Keynes, and as he rises up from the water, his shirt is neither white nor poofy.  Narnia was originally wonderly crafted by the honorable C.S. Lewis as a near parallel to the bible, with Aslan the Great Lion serving as God/Jesus, and the children's faith in Narnia is contrasted to our faith in God.  When Susan loses her fate in Narnia, she is not allowed to live in Aslan's Country, which is a parallel to Heaven.

Essentially, the Narnia movie is the most spiritual porno ever made.  Because it was HAWT.

Aaaahhh.

Random fact of the Day: Nancy Pelosi is 70 years old.

SEVENTY. YEARS. OLD.  The woman looks 50!!!

Regardless of how I feel about her, dangnabbit, I want to look that good when I'm fifty!  I suppose it's time to move to San Francisco.

Laughing Gas: The Love of My Life.

For Christmas this year, I was lovingly given 2 CDs from my pesky 12 year old brother Eric (the new T-Swift and an old Celtic Thunder album), a lovely amount of cash from my mom's boyfriend, and a new North Face Denali jacket from mommy dearest.  Oh, the topper on all of it?

WISDOM TEETH SURGERY.

DUN DUN DUN!!!!

Automatically, you assume what?  Pain, swollen cheeks, penguins (hey, I associate wisdom teeth surgery with penguins) and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of drugs.

So essentially, my mom got  me pain and Vicodin for Christmas.  Oh, and a lovely jacket that I'm currently all tucked into right now.  Along with a story about how with multiple discounts and a new Macy's card, only cost her $75.

That's right, ladies and gents.  A brand new North Face from Macy's, typically costing up to $200, was bought by my mom in the off-sale season for $75.  You'd think that I'd have gotten this gift too, but nope.  I still overpay for everything.  Did I mention that my mom once found a 24 karat, HUGE ruby bracelet outside Dunkin' Donuts in New York nearly 12 years ago?  I think she's magic.  All I've ever found was a cat with FIV.  Note to readers, do not take in stray cats that have a tendency of fighting with coyotes.  Even if she is absolutely adorable and named Sandy and would sit on your butt for hours.  Just don't do it.  Luckily, Sandy now lives with my neighbor's grandmother in a nice farm where she sits in a basket and drinks straight up cream.  Heck, we only have fat free milk in my house.

I don't know if you guys can tell, but I think I have ADHD.

Back to the lovely story of wisdom teefies!

By the way, when I looked up pictures of wisdom teeth to show you guys, all I found were a bunch of gruesome sights like this

and pictures of Taylor Swift. o.O
I really don't her similarity to a bunch of molars.

Anywhoo, I arrive at the surgeon's office Thursday morning at 10:30 am, nearly crying because the one day my mom decided to indulge and get Krispy Kremes, I can't eat for hours.  The mere sight of seeing two people who say they're family stuff their faces with donuts is quite excruciating when you haven't had anything to eat for the last 16 hours. But alas, I stop in and take a seat in "The Captain's Chair". 

Looked more like a medieval torture device to me.

But I make myself comfortable and hum happy songs to myself (ie. I Dreamed a Dream from Les Miz) while the nurse readies my large vat of drugs.  I place the laughing gas tube over my nose and..and...ah...ahh...

askhgiakulebsgajbglakuhrgkaug ooooooohhhhhh.

Dude.  That. Is. The. Greatest. Thing. In. The. World.

Only the nurse didn't think so, since I started laughing in a creepy, sinister way.  Not the typical "ahahahaha!" as exemplified here by these fine gentlemen

...but more of a "MWAHAHAHAHAHAH I EAT YOUR BRAINS" sort of laughing.  I don't remember this.

But as I laugh, and apparently plot World War III (which by the way, is going to happen between the alpacas and llamas), they jab a needle into me and I blink. 

One blink later, there's dentists above my head peering into my mouth which means..."THEY'RE GOING TO CRUSH ME MOUFF WITHOUT ME SLEEPING!!!!"

My muffled screams were cut off my a cheerful "Okay Jess!  You're all good to go!"

I can only drool in response.  And then puke.

But my mom had been expecting me to be all sad and groggy when I came out of surgery, so imagine her surprise when I exploded out of the surgery room demanding a milkshake.  Which led me to be placed under serveillance for the next two days, which I find very insulting.

No pain, no swelling, the only issue was, they gave me too much tongue paralyzer and I couldn't talk for the next 3 days.  Meaning I didn't get to go to work, or any good New Year's Eve parties :[

So with lots of laughing gas...
Miss Fruitcakey

Your Typical, Happy, Sappy, Nice-to-Meet-You-Introduction.

Well hello there!

My name is Jessica Ke, and if you're reading my blog, either you love me an insane amount, happened to stumble upon it entirely by accident, or I threatened you with bodily harm, which sadly, has been known to happen at times.  I don't mean to, it just...happens. 

I am a 17 year old girl from the magnificent town of Issaquah, Washington, located about fifteen miles either east or west (I really have no clue) from Seattle.  Population?  12,847 humans (I think), one IHOP, and about 30 goats.  The IHOP is significant because I work there (why I do is completely beyond my understanding, but I guess I do love the cooky people there), and many, many, many of my odd musings come as I'm methodically cleaning our lovely new menus free of syrup, lovingly left behind by our happy customers.  Come hungry, leave everything in the world sticky.  The goats on the other hand, were recently featured on Comedy Central in an obvious attack on the government, as instead of hiring our dear citizens to landscape for us, our very nice town has imported in 30 goats to mow our hills.

It's quite sad really, since I once ran down that hill pretending I was Julie Andrews, wind in the hair, voice belting out the lucious Rodgers and Hammerstein music, as trucks blared at me...yeah.  Doesn't happen anymore, since there's goats there.

Here's a video of alpacas, since the goat video's disappeared.

It's quite fabulous, innit?

So, I guess since we're still doing the introduction thing, I should explain myself a bit me.

I'm quite satrical and sarcastic.  I say a lot of things that I don't mean that normal people take offense at.  If I ever say something that to you, is offensive, I probably didn't mean it.  And I apologize in advance, since I probably won't at that moment.

Nothing bothers me more than bad spelling and grammar.  With that said, rarely do I ever reread what I write and spell check, leading to much hypocrisy and a 5% deduction on my essays.

I really do love music.  I'll listen to anything, except that random, indie, guitar-y stuff (Colbie Cailliat) since I'm more into the big, theatre window shattering/high C belting/Lea Salonga sort of stuff.  Yes.  I'm a musical rat.  I will sit through any musical of your choice and by the end, I'll have half the words memorized.  My favorite?  Phantom of the Opera.  Please don't argue with me on anything if you value your life.  My friend Jill and I constantly disagree on actors that have taken the roles of the Phantom, Christine, and Raoul, and surprisingly?  She's still alive.

I respect intelligence.  Not in the form of 'straight A's', since heaven knows I've never gotten them, but in the form of acting your age and knowing when to be mature.  These days, ever since facebook has granted access to people of all ages and places, I'm constantly shocked at the amount of old women freaking out at the slightest gorgeous lad.  Yes, it's adorable and endearing for a 70 year old to be crushing, or cadazzling, as I call it, on a 25 year old surfer boy from Ireland named Keith Harkin with extremely blue eyes and large mus--erm, but posting love messages on his wall everyday?  *runs away screaming* 

Are you getting sick of me yet?  Here.  Watch this video of babies laughing and then return to reading.  Or you can stop if you want to and enjoy a brownkie.  Which is a cross between a cookie and a brownie.  Yes, it's an actual thing.

You're still thinking about the brownkies, eh?

Well.  Anyways.  Onto dreams and destinies and other...crap.

My dream is to one day be a star on Broadway.  I don't care about being famous and all those shenanigans--in fact?  It seems like a hassle.  What I want to do is to have a stable career.  So many times, you see adults stuck in these dead-end jobs that they don't enjoy, yet they make a good amount of money.  Per example, see my family.  My mom works in a bank as a Teller Manager.  She makes enough for us to live comfortably in a very good community and still have extra cash for the occasional treat...like my brother's Wii that I had to stand 3 hours outside on Black Friday for.  She works hard, and we live a nice life.  But SHE HATES HER JOB.

I want to struggle.  Recently, this summer I went to New York City again (I was born there) and met many stars from Phantom of the Opera that perform at night, and wait tables in the morning.  Yes.  It's a very tough life.  They run constantly from home to costumes to the kitchen, then  back to the theatre, all for such little pay.  But they're happy.  They're doing what they love and recieving thunderous applause each night, and that's what people should crave, instead of a happy little suburban home life.  Which I suppose, many people do love, and maybe one day I will too.  But for now, I like struggling.

This whole blogging concept is quite new to me.  I've tried once before, and miserably failed...so I hope this time, it works out.  Who knows, maybe I'll be a professional blogger instead! ;)  Or...not.  Oh well.

Sending lots of brownkie hugs your way....(mmm brownkies)
Miss Fruitcakey