We all know that I’m no luckier in love than I am in cards. Without realizing at first, I’ve dated abusive men, racists, actual monsters. No less than three of my boyfriends have read my conversations with Amandoll. Two have punched furniture inches away from me. One punched me.
But none of that is very funny, and this post isn’t about my traumatic experiences with men who later stalk me. This post is about a more important thing: red flags in dating. I’ve compiled a list of urgent details to consider when considering that special someone.
YouTube offers us an endless supply of free entertainment. If you can ignore or avoid the increasingly intrusive ads, it is a great time. Learn to DIY, or cook, or just watch fools doing foolish things, whatever. Or the confusing amount of people meticulously describing things they have purchased. Those are simultaneously relaxing and frustrating. Yoga, music videos, relaxation, hypnosis — I’m just listing things that I think of because I can. It’s all there!
Of course there are plenty of things that shouldn’t be there. Things that should never exist once, let alone in such huge amounts. You know I’m talking about ASMR but does everyone here know what it is? Forgive me for showing you:
omg I hate it.
It is a statement of fact when I announce to the world here that dogs 100% love Halloween because they are animals that enjoy being dressed up in ridiculous costumes. Our four-legged friends excitedly wag their tails when they see their human companions lunge toward them with doggy-sized clothes. They yip in ecstatic delight and dance their paws in place when they see fabrics sewn to fit their quadruped shapes that then showcase these proud little companions to be some sort of dog-related pun, or the star of some television show that the dog does not appreciate OR even watch at all! Dogs love being made into laughingstocks, there only as spectacles for human snickering – the tune of which either sounds misguided, derisive, or full of pity (dogs can tell the difference). I mean, even going to a costume site will display for you, one after the other, the expressions of pure canine joy as they pose for the camera in yet another adorable, cutie-wootie, charming little outfit.
Oh wait, what am I talking about? Dogs obviously hate being dressed in anything like clothing and endure it only because they think they are being punished and will do anything to get back into your good graces. These friends of humankind are long-suffering little heroes, designed to help people and be true pals. People, of course, are mostly undeserving of such unconditional love, and throughout history have beaten the dogs, and submitted them to every form of cruelty, interspersed with occasional treats, food, and shelter. OCCASIONALLY. You could say that dogs have had it a lot better lately (ignoring all of the cruelty they are still subjected to at the hands of modern-day monsters, as seen daily via viral videos designed to make us weep), but then… then we notice an increase of popularity of Costumes for Dogs.
A fondness or craving for sweets is the definition of “sweet tooth,” according to the internet, with help from Google.
Many times in my young life, I have heard people excuse their penchant for sugary treats by referring to the fact that they possess such a “tooth.” I have news for everyone. It’s not a good excuse. Pedophiles aren’t excused from child-touchery because they are fond of it, nor should people be excused of their sticky, disgusting habit out of fondness for sugar.
Welcome to my long overdue review of a movie called Dirty Girl! Welcome! Please feel welcome! I just sat down and thought to myself, “Hey what should I do next?” I have like a thousand things that I am behind on. Some things, heck, I am like two years behind on them. Where does the time go? As I perused my List of Burdens that are slowly sapping my will to live — and I look at this list somewhat frequently, and I lament. I lament at how I have all of these responsibilities to other people, or, I guess sometimes you can call them “promises” or maybe even “paid commissions” and I think about how when they are finished, I will be free at last to live my life and gosh that’ll be the day, and then I go and take a nap or something. But not anymore! Not today!
I think it has been mentioned before that I am a terrible movie-watcher. The silliest things bug me and if I am bugged like twice in a film, I get more and more hateful about it all. By the end, if I sit through the whole thing, I have created a mountain of anger out of pretty much nothing at all and I will have a rant if anyone lets me. I am ridiculously hard to please when it comes to films, especially, and I want you to know that upfront, in case you have actually come to this review wanting an unbiased opinion. I am SO biased, so read everything from here on out imagining that I am a hate-filled shrew who can find no joy in any aspect of living.
I like my comedy scripted and rehearsed please. Improvisation is best left for jazz, freestyle rap, and Twitter.
You find yourself in a maze filled with edible orbs, and you are not alone. Monsters lurk in this place, is it a dungeon? Is it a castle? Is it a level of HELL? You must run from these evil things — oh! You catch a glimpse! They’re g-g-ghosts! Vengeful, doomed spirits chase you, wishing to devour your soul. So you run. You dodge them by darting into unused corridors! Oh god but there are more! Mindlessly being forced to eat orbs as you run in terror, you stumble upon one that causes the ghosts to flee from YOU. Ha ha! Who’s chasing whom NOW, you fiends?! You gobble them up for a few seconds, not nearly enough seconds. Then their fear is over. You didn’t kill any of them. You do not kill ghosts. The chase is on again, and again, and again until you somehow eat all of the orbs. Then it all starts over.
No, I didn’t write out an entry from my Terrible Dreams journal. I just described the basic plot of Pac Man, an early video game from the otherwise glorious 1980s. It was released on this date in 1980, and I was never the same again.
You can feel it in the air, can’t you? The tension. The nervousness. The sheer pinkness of it, reaching for you. Yes, another Valentine’s day has come for us poor wretches.
VD is a complete train wreck of a holiday. It seeks to make us insecure about ourselves, our significant others, and the validity of our own emotions. This is, in part, because love is a nebulous and confusing thing. Everyone wants it, but few people ever really get it, because no one has any idea what they’re looking for. What do you think of when you think of “love?” Several images probably flashed through your mind; many of them no doubt scenes from romantic movies. And if any of those scenes involved Meg Ryan, just go kill yourself now and spare yourself some bitter disappointment.
There are some who say that gift-giving is a dying art. There was a time once when gift selection was a thoughtful process of deciding upon a gift that reflects both the giver and its recipient, when the giver sought something that the recipient would want but would be unlikely to buy himself.
There was also a time when we lived in caves and drew stick figures on the walls.
Yes, now we live in what historians will one day call Modern Times, what with the cable TV and the “World Wide Internet” and the spray cheese and the downsizing and the Taco Bell and the one hit wonder and the female impersonators and the Lincoln Town Cars and the Wal-Marts and the African skin cults and the Bimini Road and the wild packs of Mole People from Far Ends of Time now roaming the earth. We don’t have time to give that much thought to others; we have a hair appointment at four o’clock!
Christmas nears; there is no escaping that fact. But why would you want to escape it anyway? Christmas is a time for gathering together with family, eating more than you normally should but still a little less than Thanksgiving, and don’t forget the true meaning… PRESENTS! Why would you not look forward to it? Because on the road to that happy destination that is Christmas Morning, you take a detour through HELL. Crowded malls, the local filth taking the third and fourth layers of dirt off of their car so they look more presentable during their only family outing during the year, and just general dumb-asses.
Chances are your workload is busier this time of year, plus when you get off work you have the usual stress of trying to put together a Christmas that won’t be a let-down for yourself and all of those you love and who love you. That’s a lot of stress to put on someone. Way too much. That is a dangerous amount of stress to put on a man, damn it. I’m surprised random unprovoked assaults don’t go up sharply this time of year.