It’s Friday we should break up
It’s Friday, we should break up – Taking photos of myself.
Sep 3rd
I guess I can’t be trusted.
A couple of weeks ago, I found evidence of something pretty frightening. I did a photo shoot, and a rather extensive one, in which I tried to make it look like I was, um…twins…who were kissing. Seriously, figure this out. I have no idea what the fuck I could have been thinking. I’m also not entirely sure when this photo shoot took place, but I think at least three years ago. I’m pretty sure I recognize that apartment wall behind me.
Of course, I immediately destroyed all the evidence. Who wants anyone to KNOW they’ve done such a thing? I won’t tell you how many photos there were, so don’t even try to ask. There’s no way that you’ll get me to tell you that there were at least 30 photos.
And it is your lucky day. Because I only deleted 29 of them.
That’s right. I saved one just for you guys.
What the fuck am I DOING? Seriously…I’m worried about me. I can’t be trusted alone with my laptop any more.
And just a reminder, the 5th is coming up on Sunday! As always for a weekend, we’ll be accepting submissions through Monday or Tuesday. This month’s Femme Writes topic is Politics, Religion, and Women. I think it’s a pretty good topic. There’s plenty of room to find something that suits you, be it how far women have come or how far we have to go. Thanks in advance for your participation!
It’s Friday, we should break up – Cotton Balls*.
Aug 27th
Okay, @DysFuncJunc , I’m really sorry. I know this is probably going to break your heart. However, I will still say “cotton balls” and I will still giggle every time.
Cotton balls (hehe) kind of freak me out, though. I don’t like the noise they make when I squish them. I don’t like that they’re not food. They really seem like they’d be tasty. They’re not.
And now, I have my choice of cotton squares or cotton rounds. They can be textured or not. They probably come in colors. I’m secretly hoping for flavors, but so far, no luck on that front.
Who needs a lowly cotton ball any more? They shed and they’re too small and I don’t really like the way they look in the container on my bathroom counter.
It’s been fun, cotton balls, and I will still giggle every time I think of you, but I think we’re finished. I’m going with the ever versatile cotton round, from now on. Textured on one side, smooth on the other, the cotton round really knows how to make me happy. It really knows what I need in life.
It’s not me, cotton balls, it’s you.
*Basically I just wanted to see how many times I could legitimately say “cotton balls” in one post, in an effort to make @DysFuncJunc and @GingerMandy pee their pants from the giggles. Squish mitten!
It’s Friday, we should break up – Being myself
Aug 20th
Yeah, I’m done with that.
Instead, I think I’ll be Katie Holmes. I mean, she’s got that whole “I married a crazy scientologist and now my life is everyday news for the tabloids” thing going on, right? Plus, she was in Dawson’s Creek and yes, I watched every season of that show. Twice. I was young! I was stupid! I was in love! With Joshua Jackson. I couldn’t help myself.
Oh wait…she’s got kids and stuff. I don’t need any of those. And Tom Cruise actually kind of freaks me out.
Moving on.
Paris Hilton? She’s got all the money and stuff. But those old lady hands really don’t do anything for me. Plus, you know, I can’t stand anything about her.
I’ve got it. No, but really. Cameron Diaz. I think we’re a lot alike anyway, except that she’s really tall and really skinny and her mouth looks like it could eat me whole. I love that woman more than I can explain and I always have. When HuffPo started reporting that she was saying things like, “Yeah, I’ll travel for cock” (a phrase, I’m sad to say, some rather un-evolved people still take to mean she’s some kind of slutbag) and “Love rarely lasts forever,” I have to admit, it only made me love her more.
If you’re wondering why we’re having this conversation, it’s because I have a date tonight. What I would have said to you two days ago is this: I have no idea how to BEHAVE on a date any more. Like, what does one DO?
But I’ve now said this to several people and every single one of them (with the exception of one, and I told her not to say it) said the EXACT same thing: Be yourself.
Well…
NO SHIT.
Who else am I going to be? Really. Be myself. What sage advise to someone who has an extremely strong sense of self and can’t even stretch the truth about herself to get a JOB. Yes, thank you, I think I will be myself.
Now I’m not faulting these people. I have no idea what the answers are, so maybe it’s just that no one does. My fault is with offering up a lame platitude. In what universe is the advice “Be yourself” going to be helpful to me? Is it helpful to anyone? If you’re not capable of it, you’re not going to suddenly become capable of it because someone told you to. If you’re me, you’re going to do it whether you want to or not (and lord help the poor dude who’s also on the date, right?). And if you are the sort of person who pretends to be someone else, you’re probably just going to keep down that road. It’s not like this is some novel concept.
OH! Be MYSELF! Well, this changes everything. Guess I’ll give that the ol’ college try, eh?
So wish me luck. Also, you might as well wish him luck, as he may very well be reading this. Yeah…he reads my blog. And I swear, if even one of you leaves a comment that says, “Well, he reads your blog and he still likes you! That’s good!” my head will explode. First, that’s mildly insulting. Second, it’s not really about that and it just makes everything all lopsided. Plus, don’t you think it’s probably better to tell someone much later than a first date about that time you pooped yourself at work? Yeah, I kind of do. Oh well.
It’s Friday, we should break up – People who are too moronic to put two and two together.
Aug 6th
Dear Stupid People,
If you tell the entire internets that you’re not home AND you tell them where you live? I don’t really feel bad when you get burgled.
Love,
Shine
I think we all know how much I hate FourSquare. Not only is it ridiculously annoying, some people are really stupid about it. And while I do use Twitter and I might sometimes suggest that I’m not at my dwelling, no one knows where I live or where I am. That makes it hard to stalk me or rob me.
So if you, dear FourSquare user, have a check in at your place of residence? That’s a little GPS dot on your home. Not only do you live there, all your stuff lives there even when you’re not home. How dumb to you have to be to realize there might be adverse consequences to announcing to a bunch of strangers exactly where you are and where you live?
Do you really expect me to have much sympathy for you when someone breaks into your house and steals your precious flat screen? Or when some creepy person starts showing up everywhere you are?
I announced where I was going to be ONE TIME. ONE TIME, and someone showed up, uninvited, and acted a creepy fool. It was a mistake and I’ll never do it again.
Some of my friends think I’m ridiculous or paranoid because I don’t say on my blog very often which specific bars or restaurants I frequent. I think I’m just being careful about the internet. And it’s so easy to be a creepster these days. We have so much access to so much personal information.
So seriously, stop being an idiot. Or at least stop expecting anyone to feel sorry for you when you act like one. If you don’t want people to know where you live or where you work or where you are, try NOT announcing it on the internet.
Also, your FourSquare updates? They don’t have to be on Twitter. So if for some reason, you just really think it’s cool to “check-in” at the grocery store or whatever, you can still do that without telling everyone on your Twitter feed. And not just because none of us care (I promise, no one cares), for your own safety. Think before you tweet.
It’s Friday, we should break up – Assholes who don’t understand flashing lights.
Jun 25th
I’m going to ask you to think back. Think way back. Remember when you were learning how to drive? There was one particular rule about what to do when you see flashing lights behind you, or when you hear sirens. I think it was GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY.
Yeah, okay, actually it’s “move to the right,” but you get the idea. As a person who doesn’t have sirens and flashy lights, you must move over (off the road, if you can) and get out of the way of any police care, fire truck, or ambulance that you see behind you.
Why? Because they’re doing something more important than you. Theoretically. I know there are some asshole cops out there who use flashing lights just to get through lights or traffic, but let’s just pretend for a moment that it’s not your place to decide which ones those are, m’kay?
(Think for a second how much it must blow ass to drive around as a cop anyway. People always slowing down and going the speed limit and stuff. Ugh.)
Anyway, I’m not really sure when people decided that they no longer had to get out of the way, but it seems to be running rampant around Dallas. It’s not a complicated rule, people.
Just this morning, I saw a police man driving in the fast lane (on the highway) with lights and sirens on having to get all the way up on people’s asses before they would move out of his way. I kind of wish they’d all gotten arrested for that. I’ve seen it happen with fire trucks and ambulances, too.
My old boss (she was a little crazy and just about the worst driver in the whole world) even understood the rule. Sort of. She would say, “When I hear sirens, I just stop. Wherever I am, I just stop right there, so they can get around me.”
So yeah…that’s maybe more dangerous than helpful. But at least she recognized her responsibility to do something.
