Harry Potter Should Really Be Called Neville Longbottom

I know, all the girls are giving me death glares now. They're all "WHO WAS IT WHO DEFEATED VOLDEMORT?!" Well guess what bitches- it's really Neville who always saves the day.

Sorcerer's Stone:

Who is it who tries to keep our 3 trouble makers from leaving and getting Gryffindor house into more trouble? My man L-Botts over here.

Also, let's think back ladies and gents- who was it who's 10 points for Gryffindor won them the house cup? Oh yeah, Neville. FOR STANDING UP TO HIS FRIENDS TO PROTECT THEM.

Never mind this whole book by book analysis, I don't feel like reading every book again to find all the examples of why Neville is actually the one who rocks my socks off. Let's cut straight to the chase:

Who were the two children who could have been of the prophecy? Oh yeah Harry AND NEVILLE. Neville was just as much the chosen one as Harry, except his parents actually managed to survive their attacks. Stronger blood line there?

Who do you think has it harder, Harry with no parents, or Neville who has to see his parents reduced to insanity? Harry can just think about how awesome it would be if he had parents. Neville would probably suffer less if his parents just didn't give him presents, rather than candy wrappers. That's got to be hard on a kid. Yet, while Neville is suffering quite possibly more than Harry is, does he have little teenage angst sessions? Does he hate on his BFFs and throw temper tantrums? Nope, he and Trevor just hang out and be awesome.

Who is it who deals with the Carrows and defends the students of Hogwarts and rallies against Voldemort's prescence in Hogwarts while our bro Harry is off wandering around, being angsty, and accomplishing nothing but getting himself into trouble and following foolish dreams of bringing his parents back while Voldemort is destroying the world? Oh yeah L-Botts again. No way. Also, who actually figured out how to use the Room of Requirement?

Who is it who is in charge of finishing off Voldey (well, Nagini) if Harry dies? Yep, Nevs. So basically, when Harry screws up it's Neville's job to fix shit so Voldemort can still be defeated. No freaking way. And when Harry is "dead" and Voldemort is gloating, and everyone is mourning, who is it who charges Voldemort? Neville never accepts defeat.. He's still fighting, even though the consequences are dire. He gets lit on fire, and he never gives up. And then, he breaks free of Voldemort's curse, pulls the sword of Godric Gryffindor out of the hat and kills Nagini. I'm getting shivers just thinking about it. Bam just like that. Let's be honest, old Volds was basically done right there. Neville is saving all the shit.

Moral of the story: while Harry is being angsty and "defeating Voldemort" Neville is in the background getting shit done, and generally being the better, under appreciated boy-who-also-lived. You know it's true. Also house elves. They never get enough credit.

Willow Smith, I Find You Disturbing

Anyone else a little perturbed by Willow Smith's song Whip My Hair? I mean seriously, the girl is 9! I thought JBeebz was young, but this shit is getting ridiculous. And let's be honest, girl never would have any song at all if it weren't for her famous daddie.

Let's look at some of the lyrics:

First of all, we get it. You're whipping your hair. No need to repeat it 7 more times. If you're watching the video you can see it too. The meaning is clear. Shut up and move on.

"Hop up out the bed turn my swag on"

Umm what? You have swag? You're nine. Do you even know what swag is? You should have a princess backpack, not swag.

"Pay no attention to them haters cuz we whip em off"

Haters? Really? I thought the hating didn't start until middle school. I'm pretty sure in elementary school you like everyone. It concerns me that a nine year old is enough of a bitch that she has haters. How are they raising that girl!?

"i'm just tryna have fun so keep the party jumping"

The party? I hope you mean your birthday party, where you had a bouncy house. I know that's what you mean. Because you're 9 so you've never been to any other kind of party.

"Don't let haters keep me off my grind"

I'm still concerned about these "haters" she has, but more pressing issue: what the hell is her grind? You are too young to be grinding any sort of food item, and I know you're not grinding up on anything else. For realz, where are her parents while this shit is going down?

"When I'm down and I feel like giving up I think again"

Feel like giving up on what? Your long division homework? Get real

Then we have 16 lines just to make sure we know SHE'S WHIPPING HER HAIR BACK AND FORTH

What the hell does whipping your hair have to do with ANYTHING?

"Soon as i hit the stage applause I'm hearing it"

This would be so much more acceptable if it was the stage of her school's holiday concert, and not a stage in which she performs this horrible song and people pay. 9 year olds should not be performing for massive audiences. Her ears will probably never develop correctly.

"I, I gets it in mmmm yea I go hard"

You're 9. That is so so illegal. And disturbing.

I hope Child Protective Services has heard this song and is looking into it. Supposedly she wrote this herself. I am concerned about the kind of lifestyle she is living on so many different levels.

Group Projects...In College? For Realz?

A List of All the Reasons Group Work Should Not be Assigned in College

1. GPA

Excuse me, when the group project is 20% of the grade and that grade is 25% of my GPA that is leaving way to much of my GPA up to other people. That affects my scholarships and shit you know.

2. Schedules

I'm supposed to be able to coordinate a time to meet 6 other people OUTSIDE of class? Half of them don't even show up to class, never mind know where the library is.

3. Work Distribution

Yeah, I know you're an architecture major and this is your elective, and I know you're a senior, but that does not mean I'm doing the whole presentation guys. Shut up and email me your power point before 2 am the day of the presentation.

4. Grading

Wow, really, you're going to give us ALL a 95% on our presentation? Even though I was the only person who spoke, and if you asked you'd discover I also made the whole presentation and I'm pretty sure the rest of the group never even ordered the book.

5. People

Really, you want me to talk to the kid who has worn the same shirt all semester? I purposely sit on the other side of the room from him and now your TA has randomly assigned us to a group and I need to associate with him? Not happening.

6. Power point

Power point is the most overused, badly used teaching aid ever. No one gives a shit about the topic, and power point doesn't change that. Your slides should not be a novel! There should probably be a whole class titled "How to Make a Power Point That Doesn't Suck" before anyone is allowed to participate in a group project. And for that matter, mandatory for all professors.

7. Slacking

Someone always takes control of a group project. It's not my fault I'm type A, slightly obsessive compulsive and have no social life. As soon as the other group members discover there's someone more concerned with their grades than they are, suddenly they're off the hook and they don't do shit. Great.

8. Slacking

Don't try and deny it, you're slacking too Professor. You love to assign group projects instead of a final because then you can take the last 2 weeks of the semester off, stop preparing lectures and just listen to us flounder on about some mundane topic while you think about what you're going to buy your 4 year old for Christmas. I see through that shit, and I do not approve.

This is college people, not 6th grade. Don't give me some crap about needing to learn to work together for the real world, I am living with the 3 messiest people in the world and I haven't killed them yet. I can work with anyone. None of my GPA needs to be resting in the hands of some stoner who can't even find his way to class twice a week. And no way in hell do I need to be boosting his. No more group projects, it's for the greater good!

Why Shop At Walmart When You Can Go Yardsaling?!

Aha, summertime. The sunniest, stickiest, most beautiful time of year. Plants are blooming, kids are carefree, and gas prices skyrocket. What's not to love about sweltering heat, obnoxious vacationers everywhere and sand all up in your business? Nothing I tell you, nothing! But the best part of summer? Yard sales. Every Saturday dozens of people in your area are willing to sell you their old shit super cheap! What is not to love about cheap junk? NOTHING. I TOLD YOU SUMMER WAS GREAT. Now, yardsaling is not just hopping into your car and forking over a few crinkled ones for a broken desk lamp. Oh no. Yardsaling is so much more. Those of us who are really experienced realize it is more of a finely tuned art. To maximize your yardsale experience you must first love yourself. You must know yourself. Once the self aspect is complete you must come to know the "yard". The only way you will ever truly find the best bargains is to become one with the bounty that is being provided for you.

I realize an inexperienced yardsaler might have trouble understanding the type of yardsale success I am describing. To an inexperienced eye a yardsale can seem like piles of junk. Which is why I am going to provide an in-depth example of a highly successful recent yardsale experience I had. Do not be discouraged if after reading this you can not achieve the same results. Years of practice as well have genetics have made me the way I am. Do not expect to compete after just one or two tries.

Recently my town had a small fair thing. I live in a small town and events like this are important so people have an excuse to get in their horse and buggy and come together. How else would we keep up on everyone else's business?! This fair included various activities, the only one which bares any importance to this story is a town wide yard sale to support the historical society. All the items are donated and the Historical Society sells them for almost nothing, since they got them for nothing.

Now, me being the very successful college student that I am, home for summer vacation with nothing to do, am in the habit of sleeping until ten, eleven am each day, even noon or one on occasions. This can be a fatal flaw for any yardsaler, however I escaped ralativley unscathed, due at large to the sheer size of this yard sale and my specific needs. Being a college student I am merely a month away from living in my very first apartment. I have a very long list of kitchen appliances, furnishings and other life-or-death items every college student needs. If you are searching for your typical junk, as I always have been in the past, it is imperative you get out there early. The best finds will be swooped up by the old ladies who went to bed at 8 pm so you need to be alert and caffeinated at hours best left to woodland creatures if you hope to compete with them.

But alas, my lateness was paid off with good fortune. I arrived on the scene of the yardsale to find my assistant (and awesome little sister Becca) had already done some scoping. An eggbeater had been purchased, since those tend to go quick, and various other items were assembled and waiting my approval. Not everyone has the luxury of having helpers they can send out to do scoping though. Realize that I am at the professional level of this sport, and you are playing on a rec league. I hold 6 Olympic medals and you haven't scored a goal yet. I don't want anyone getting discouraged though! You'll get there some day, after countless Saturdays of setting your alarm for single digit numbers.

Becca had assembled the motherload of kitchen bliss. There was a matching set of three oven mitts with the most adorable ducks on them, for only a quarter. Talk about value people! Three vases for me to choose from, all under 50 cents and wildly stylish, with various types of fake flowers, as I live in Boston where fresh flowers aren't readily available. I had to pass up this wonderful deal, because its a tiny apartment people! There was one large plastic measuring cup, to cover all my baking needs, which was totally not even gross anymore after I ran it through the dishwasher. The deals were endless and beautiful; my arms were soon overflowing with kitchen essentials. I now have a full set of medium and large spoons, all matching (though no other cutlery). I have a set of three place mats (who needs a full set of four? Three is a prime number!); I have a spice rack (complete with very old and nasty smelling spices) which holds 6 different spices (so I'll have room for other types of herbs too!) and even rotates for easy access! For just a dollar I got a bundle that included 2 ladles, a cheese slicer, a serving spoon, a butcher knife, a steak fork, a whisk and a spatula! As far as dish ware I did very well for entering so late in the game. I got a set of 4 black octagonal plates (octagons are the new squares, and squares are very in right now), a set of 3 medium green plates and 5 matching bowls, and another set of 3 medium plates. My dishes may not all match, and if I ever have more than 4 people for dinner we'll have to break out the smaller plates (but we'd have to break out non-matching place mats at 3 people, so I'm just going to keep my dining experiences small). But let me tell you this is quality dish ware- all dishwasher safe (not that I'll have a dishwasher, but it doesn't hurt to dream) and very in.

However, with all this beautiful new (to me) kitchen ware for my very own apartment, there is one purchase that really toped off the day. The salt and pepper selection at this place was phenomenal, I can only imagine what I could have chosen from if I had arrived at 8 am with the old ladies! For my room a lovely pair of cat/bear things. Grinning up at you with a slightly terrifying grin and waving at you cheerily, with pink painted bows adorning their necks these might be the most horrifying and perfect figurines I have ever had the pleasure of coming across. As shocking as it seems they are equally as awesome as the salt and pepper shakers I purchased for my lovely boyfriend (and his 3 roommates, I have no doubt they will be highly appreciated all around). Shaped like old wooden barrels (very Revolutionary War) they have bronze eagles on them, holding a banner which reads "Our liberties, our freedom." If it gets better than that I don't know how. The pepper shaker is even a grinder as well, making these highly efficient as well as the perfect finishing touch to what I'm sure will be an always stylish kitchen.

Now, many of my purchases were fortunate, but not extraordinary. However, please do not expect to find things the caliber of my salt shakers on your first yardsaling experience. As I have mentioned, I have years of practice behind me. I know how to comb through items on folding tables like nobodies business. I picked through countless items, holding out for the perfect specimen to call my own. And ladies and gentleman, it was worth it. I acquired all this beauty for the low prices of $7.50. Some day with oractice, determination and a little luck, you too can be this successful at yardsaling. Don't give up! You'll get there someday!

Josiah’s Last Sliver of Morality

Hey, I’m Josiah, one of the blogger people on this website. Sort of. For some reason, I’m going to start out by telling you my life story.

Part 1. (The Good Kid)

Yeah, you read it right. I was the good little smiling white boy who wore a halo around his head at all times. I guess you wouldn’t really know the difference now, seeing that you don’t know me, and you literally just became aware of my existence about 10 to 30 seconds ago depending on your literacy. Wow, two minutes? You’re idiotic. Anyways, I was good. I stayed away from conversations that had to do with drugs or Harry Potter. Harry Potter was a huge no-no, maybe more so than the drugs. Even now, I have yet to do both. Let’s jump ahead to another part. No, I don’t think I’m going show you the next part… maybe the part after.

Part 3. (The Part after Part 2)

So, after Disney, I was a new person. I gradually began to make jokes, and I even cracked a couple dirty ones. I became pretty good acquaintances with the other people who write this thing, and I made several others. And that Derek kid and I are writing a book. Wow. Am I really whoring out my book to a blog that will never be read? Hmm… Yeah, I feel like shaming myself.

So yeah, there you go. That’s my life in three parts, without the annoying, cumbersome baggage of the second part. So now that you know about me, I’ll start talking about something now.

Pocket Watches

Now, I’m not really a watch person. Watches feed human’s dependency on gears, and gears are treacherous. Remember that. But, when I saw my friend wear a pocket watch, I knew that it was an original enough idea to do the exact same thing and coin it as my own. So now, I am THAT guy. Yeah, you know that guy. The “I wear a vest and tie with jeans, just so that I can correctly wear a pocket watch” guy. I’m proud of my accomplishments. Don’t judge. Pocket watches have several logical uses that I will now list.

1. Your snazzy meter will multiply by at least seven if you wear a pocket watch.

Seriously, if you are walking down the street swinging sweet swirls around the rhythm of your second hand (swinging your pocket watch around), you are getting checked out. I’m not joking. Especially if you’re hot. Okay, if you are walking down the street swinging sweet swirls around the rhythm of your second hand, and you are HOT, you are getting checked out. I still say the watch helped.

2. You get to blow people’s minds.

So Hillary, her brother, and I got on a train in Boston. It was late fall or something, so I was wearing my long pea coat (also crazy-snazzy). So, we’re sitting in a pretty sketchy train car, and this pretty sketchy guy sits across from us. I think he was bald. Does that matter at all to the actual story? That’s your opinion. Anyways, he asked if one of us had the time. This is about a week after my initial pocket watch purchase, so I immediately jumped to the challenge. Let’s talk about some obstacles. For one, my coat was buttoned up, with my pocket watch in my vest pocket which was now underneath a fair amount of wool-like polyester. Another obstacle was time. Both Hillary and her brother were sporting wrist watches, the jerk son of the pocket watch who probably got all the inheritance and waved it in the sundial’s face. Needless to say, they were beating me on the whole “tell the stranger the time” thing. So here’s what I did. I literally lifted my still-buttoned pea coat up, ripped my watch from my vest pocket, and read the man the time in such a majestic way that I was pretty sure that he was going to bow down to me. Hillary and her brother sat there in shame, while I stood there with my pea coat hunched up to my mid torso, smiling idiotically. Yeah.

Well, that’s all I can think of… but pocket watches rule. I swear.