Archive | April, 2013

in defense of ross geller: a very special episode

19 Apr

I recently read an article on Buzzfeed entitled “35 Reasons Why Ross Geller is the Worst”. Now, as an avid “Friends” viewer (I could probably quote episodes in full to you, possibly verbatim, and I’m not ashamed of that. NO TEA NO SHADE, HUNTIES), I have had my fair share of struggle with Ross Geller throughout the years. Anyone who watches the show probably has. But, what I think happened with the person who wrote this article is that they were dwelling too much on the Ross of yesteryear (aka Ross seasons 1-4), as opposed to the incredible Ross of the later seasons. I have to assume that this is what they were doing, otherwise I’m afraid I might crumble and fall to pieces. I love Ross Geller.

Gross. Season 1 Ross. Just looking at him is the worst.

Gross. Season 1 Ross. Just looking at him is the worst.

You see, boys and ghouls, for anyone who somehow does not know, Ross is an extremely annoying character in seasons 1-4, emphasis on seasons 1, 2, and 3. He was whiny, annoying, self-obsessed, heterosexist, and frustratingly always thinking he was right. There were episodes dealing with essentially all of these issues. Getting together with Rachel did make Ross a more likable and bearable character, but then came the episodes I hate to watch. I am talking about when Rachel meets Mark and he gets her the job at Bloomingdales. Ross’s insane jealousy of Mark is out of control. YES, technically he was correct that Mark wanted to sleep with Rachel, but that isn’t the point. The point is that he was immediately jealous of this new character and apparently didn’t have enough faith in Rachel to get over it, seemingly not knowing that Rachel would never do anything with Mark to jeopardize her relationship with Ross.

Then there’s the debate that the show twisted in later seasons, “were they or were they not on a break”. I cannot stress this enough: the original question that broke up Ross and Rachel was not if they were on a break or not. They were on a break, we all know this. The problem was that Ross slept with that copy shop girl (who, by the way, was not as hot as the male characters on the show made her out to be, sorry I’m not sorry) on the same night that him and Rachel broke up, after he had gotten mad at Rachel for being in the same room as Mark (must note, Rachel never slept with Mark. C’mon Ross), and then tried to cover his tracks so Rachel would never find out about what had happened. In my opinion, Ross is entirely in the wrong. We technically can’t consider this cheating (no one stab me for saying that, I watch “Sex and the City”, I’ve heard of their “cheating curve”), but my real problem is that Ross was not giving a shit about Rachel’s job that she loved and was trying to take seriously, because he was out of control jealous of Mark. It’s a problem that he slept with someone immediately after him and Rachel simply went on a break, before actually discussing with her if it was a break up. The show changes the issue to the ongoing joke of “we were on a break”, when really, that has nothing to do with it. We all know they were on a break, but we don’t know for a fact if Ross was in the wrong for his actions (I think he was, the break up has nothing to do with Mark, but Ross’s insane insecurity and lack of being able to get over his jealousy).

But yeah, there’s my rant about Ross seasons 1-3, really. He gets better in season 4. I assume it’s because they added the character of Emily and everyone looks good in comparison to her. She really sucked. However, it’s season 5 that I began to fall in love with Ross.

Best thing this schmuck could have ever done for himself.

Best thing this schmuck could have ever done for himself was saying the wrong name.

After him and Emily break up (“good riddance to bad rubbish”, all of America collectively thought at the same exact moment), Ross goes insane. And it is hysterical. The after-Thanksgiving sandwich that Ross’s boss eats and then Ross freaks out about, leading him to have to take a sabbatical. Ross’s “rage”. The leather pants he wears that turn into his “paste pants”. Trying to get a couch upstairs and continuously yelling “PIVOT” at Chandler and Rachel when there was clearly no room to pivot. Marrying Rachel in Vegas and then lying to her about getting an annulment. Getting divorced. Again. When he bleaches his teeth that glow in the dark because he is overly excited for an upcoming date. The dance routine he does with his sister for New Year’s that they made up when they were in high school. The Holiday armadillo, Santa’s half-Jewish friend (absolutely genius). Dating Mona (who might be worse than Emily, that’s my opinion) and forgetting about her all of the time. When he’s upset about Rachel and Joey dating (but really, we were all upset about Rachel and Joey dating, that was a dark time), and he got drunk, made an impromptu speech about love, claimed he was “FINE” and then shouted, “MY FAJITAS!”. When Chandler claims that Ross died on their alumni website and Ross decides to stage a memorial service to see who shows up. When he eats too much maple candy and wants to steal the contents of everything in his hotel room. And I will leave you with the mental image of Ross getting a tan, but only getting sprayed on his front side, so he’s completely white all down his back.

Why tease you with the mental image when I have the actual image right here? Plus, now we're all in the know about who plays the tanning salon guy. We're all the wiser for this.

Why tease you with the mental image when I have the actual image right here? Plus, now we’re all in the know about who plays the tanning salon guy. We’re all the wiser for this.

It wouldn't be right to not give you the holiday armadillo.

It wouldn’t be right to not give you the holiday armadillo.

You got yourself a pair of paste pants.

You got yourself a pair of paste pants.

Ross Geller in the 80's: Every woman's dream.

Ross Geller in the 80’s: Every woman’s dream.

"Who has a black light?! It's 1999!"

“Who has a black light?! It’s 1999!”

As a final treat, here's just a really nice picture of Ross.

As a final treat, here’s just a really nice picture of Ross.

The writer of the Buzzfeed article tries to pretend these moments weren’t endearing, but really, they make Ross amazing. Most of the gifs this columnist added were from some of Ross’s best moments. The writers spent a lot of time focusing on the storylines of other characters and then giving Ross these ridiculous subplots that were automatically the main source of comedy, for me at least. If I had to choose any character to watch a show about just living his or her day-to-day life, it would be Ross. For him, a mundane task like getting the newspaper would be turned into an entertaining adventure. Whoever wrote the Buzzfeed article must have been watching a different show from me, because Ross goes from (probably everyone’s) least favorite to one of the best characters on “Friends”. The writers decided just to make him more of a joke as a character in general. He’s still whiny, but he’s whiny in a funny way, such as when he yells “MAJOR SHAMPOO EXPLOSION” after stolen toiletries explode in his luggage, and then asks God, “why do bad things happen to good people?” Ross makes a complete 180 and easily becomes one of the funniest characters.

And I really have to give kudos to David Schwimmer here, because his line delivery in all of his scenes is absolutely amazing. He knows exactly when to shout certain words, when there should be extra emphasis on different syllables, and he is damn entertaining at acting drunk. So I don’t care what you say, Buzzfeed. Ross Geller is absolutely anything BUT the worst.

The worst goes to Monica. SORRY, I’M NOT SORRY. I SAID IT. We were all thinking it. Let’s move on.

Oh and if anything, we should all be able to appreciate Ross for his hair in season 5 alone. It is out of control and it is amazing.

Such a luscious mane of crazy hair.

Such a luscious mane of crazy hair.

So, as a send-off for the end of this post, here are some YouTube videos of Ross Geller’s finest moments. I think we can all learn a lesson or six from Ross on how we can truly live, and I probably quote all of his one liners on a daily basis. Goodbye, and may the odds be ever in your favor, darling.

I’ll be honest, I didn’t actually watch any of those videos. They’re probably all the same moments overlapping, but I frankly do not care. I can’t get enough dinosaurs! Or Ross Geller (season 5 on, of course).

Ross Geller: A god amongst mortals.

Ross Geller: A god amongst mortals.

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a moment on the lips…and you know the rest

19 Apr

I’ve written before on here that I work for Weight Watchers. What a lot of people don’t tend to realize is that to work for Weight Watchers, you need to be a lifetime member of the program. This means that you need to have hit your goal weight and remained in your goal range in order to work for the company. People who come into the stores or see me working at the weigh-in stations tend to not realize that you need to have done the program and lost weight to work for the company, and they always seem to assume that I’ve lost 20 pounds at most, despite the fact that I wear a nametag that says “Weight Watchers, Alaina, I lost 66 pounds in 2008”. I guess people don’t read nametags anymore (folks nowadays, huh?) or are just more for jumping to conclusions or assumptions about people, but we pretty much lay it right out there for all members to see that we have been through the program, are on the program, and we know what they’re going through. Everyone who works for the company has been where the members have been and we are still dealing with our own weight loss battles, despite our successes.

So I lost my weight in 2008, but my weight loss journey began far before then. I’ve never actually written anything about losing my weight, but I feel the desire to now for some reason. I might as well share my story since I’m constantly grasping for topics to write posts about. So congratulations, (imaginary) reader! You get to read my story, whether you want to or not (don’t you DARE go to a different website, you hear me?)!

As I said, my journey began before 2008, probably about 10 years before. The first time I thought to myself that I needed to go on a diet was when I was eight years old. I had started gaining weight and I decided that I should do something about it. I didn’t tell my mother I thought I needed to go on a diet, I just tried to eat more fruit pretty much. That’s what television taught me a diet was: eating fruit. But, I was eight. When you’re eight, you’re usually not as much in control of what you eat as you’d like to be. And also, what an eight year old would like to eat is probably lots of ice cream. So I was already getting that. Also, most members of my family have struggled with weight problems throughout their lives, so we really weren’t the best support system for one another in terms of trying to lose weight and learn to live a healthy lifestyle. My main point here is that what bothers me is the fact that I was eight years old and I thought I was fat. At the time I obviously didn’t think much of it, but looking back, it’s so sad to me that I was thinking that way about myself. I think that part of this realization came from secretly knowing that I could never own a life-size Barbie because the commercials advertised the owner of the Barbie sharing clothes with her, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that because I would be too big. Just add that to the list of what’s wrong with Barbie and our society (more like what isn’t wrong with Barbie, amirite?).

All through middle and high school, I struggled with my weight. I always felt like I was the heaviest of all of my friends. On top of this, I hang out with a lot of small and short people, so I felt like a monster in comparison. I just never felt like I was cute or looked good like my other friends did. I don’t know if my friends felt cute, they probably didn’t because middle school is like walking slowly through hell while being whipped and having your braces mercilessly tightened consistently for three years, but I thought that my friends all looked cute and wore cute clothes. Boys liked my friends. Boys did not like me (not much has changed except that now, no one likes me). As I got older I learned that this wasn’t the end all of life, but it was fucking middle school. As I said, three years of walking through hell slowly. Seemingly no end in sight. Of course then I thought life was miserable because boys didn’t like me. If “Lizzie McGuire” had taught me anything, it was to be as cute and adorable as possible to win over your crush. I was neither cute nor adorable. I eventually learned after a few years to use my personality to charm (hence why I’m the uproarious person you see in front of you today), but for the most part I feel like I was pretty unpleasant and as I have stated, I felt like a monster.

Once, I was considering performing in a talent show with some of the other girls in my grade, and I went to a friend’s house to figure out outfits to wear. The girls decided they wanted to wear halter tops, which I did not own because I tried to avoid showing off my arms and rest of body at all costs when I was in middle school and then for pretty much all of high school and into college for a while. I wore floor length dusters when one should never wear a floor length duster (i.e. never. You should never wear a floor length duster). My friend told me I could borrow one of hers, but it was a bit tight on me. By “a bit tight”, I mean it flat out didn’t fit me. As a side note, I was never imagining that I was heavier than my friends. I physically always had been from 8 years old on. Anyway, we decided we should saran wrap my stomach to try to hold it in. And then we did that. We actually practiced wrapping saran wrap around my stomach to try to flatten it. Nothing went as planned and I ended up not being in the talent show (but come to think of it, I feel like the talent show itself was canceled or something. I don’t think I formally just quit the group because I felt too uncomfortable. Probably for the best if it was canceled, no one needs to see middle schoolers doing poorly choreographed dances), and although my friend wasn’t making fun of me for being heavier, it was the first time someone really noticed my weight problem and acknowledged aloud to me that I was heavier (see, I told you I wasn’t imagining it). It’s one thing to know that yourself, but really another thing for someone to point it out to you, despite how innocently they may be doing so.

But, that was really all there was in my life having to do with other people being a negative factor in my own thinking that I was fat. When most people talk about their weight loss journeys, they mention being teased about their weight throughout their k-12 years. I thankfully never had many experiences with that, aside from one or two encounters (one of these times being when a boy told me and my friend that we were the “fat sisters who looked alike” or something to that nature. It was very clever of him. The second experience was my grandfather lovingly telling me that I would get a boyfriend if I lost weight. I brushed it off as him being an old man); my low-blows came more from what I knew or thought I couldn’t do due to my size rather than from anyone actually pointing it out.

The fat-shaming came from not being able to shop at the same trendy stores as my friends because of my size, or because the store’s twisted version of my size was majorly skewed (I’m referring to the store Limited Too, mostly. I never even bothered stepping foot in there because I didn’t even want to bother trying on clothes and bringing down my self-esteem more).

It came in the form of not being able to understand what feeling satisfied from eating was, because I was constantly shoving food in my mouth as a way to handle all feelings, so I only knew what feeling sick to my stomach was. It came from not being able to adequately deal with my feelings because I was taught and thought for far too long in my life that food was the solution to every single emotion.

It was not being able to run the mile in gym at a normal time because of my asthma, which I still have regardless of my size, but I know was horribly worse when I was heavier. It was knowing I would never feel comfortable in dance costumes because I’d have to add on straps or extra material, and then the proceeding feelings of dread over having to wear them in front of other people at recitals because dance costumes, while usually unflattering regardless of size, happened to look even worse on my lumpy and uneven body.

It was always just the little things that no one would think to consider a source of what was bringing me down. Yes, negativity came from the outside world and outside factors. Obviously the media shows us what we should look like, that especially being true for women (from birth until death we’re taught how we should look a certain way), but it was really from taking what was fed to me from outside sources and how I chose to eat up and interpret them in my own way. People didn’t come up to me and tell me I was fat; I already knew from what I couldn’t do that I was fat. And I hate using the word fat because it just sounds so ugly, but when you’re at that point and you feel that way, it’s really the only way to describe how you perceive yourself. But, my point is that while all of the outside factors surrounding me were telling me to look and be a certain way, my unhappiness with my weight was ultimately on me.

So, when my mother asked me if I wanted to join Weight Watchers with her, I was at the point where I didn’t even hesitate to say “yes”. I needed to for me, because I was so fed up with myself, I was at my heaviest weight, and I just did not feel good about myself in the slightest. Weight Watchers taught me portion control and how to make smarter eating choices. I joined the program right before my senior year of high school and lost the weight through that year and the beginning of freshman year of college, and I think that was the best time for me to ever join. I can’t even think of how different my college experience would have been if I hadn’t lost the weight and had an understanding of how to eat while I was in school.

But, I have to stress that I didn’t automatically feel a huge boost of confidence because I lost weight. I felt better about myself, but I was still at the point of comparing myself to other women around me, because that’s what I’d been doing to myself my whole life. And I still do it now; I think it’s impossible to not compare yourself to other people at least every once in a while. But, I do feel like I was more outgoing once I got to college because I was at least happier with myself. I was happy that I had lost the weight, but I was also really proud of myself for doing so. I lost 66.6 pounds in total, and it still makes me happy to think about that fact that I accomplished that because it really has helped shape me into the person I am today. My mother always says that she thinks joining Weight Watchers was the best thing we’ve ever done together, and I am prone to agree with her. I don’t know where I’d be today if I hadn’t joined the program. I don’t know how I’d look, or more importantly, how’d I’d feel currently. Because while we all want to look good, I really did learn that how you feel about yourself is really most important. It sounds like such a simple lesson, but getting yourself to the point where you’re not horrified and angry with yourself all the time is really more difficult to do than some people understand. I still struggle with not getting mad at myself about certain choices I make, but at least I can say it’s not on a consistent daily basis anymore, and more often than not, I at least still feel healthy, or I know what to do to get myself back to feeling healthy. I’m learning (slowly) to accept my body for what it is, despite the flaws I know I still have. I’ve put a lot of work into doing that and perceiving myself more positively, and no one can take it away from me.

And thus ends the “positive” Alaina post of the week. As I always say, at least no one reads this blog. It might take away my cynical, pessimistic, cool kid edge if someone were to read such positivity coming from me. This stays between us. Just me and nobody.

“look for the helpers. you will always find people who are helping”

19 Apr

Due to the horrific events that occurred at the Boston Marathon this past Monday, April 15, I feel obligated to at least comment on it in some way, no matter how small that way might be. I was in Watertown on the day of the marathon, but my friends and I had considered, albeit briefly, going into Boston to celebrate having the day off. When we heard the news of the explosions going off, I feel that there was a shared sense of not knowing how to comprehend, react, or take in and process what we had heard. I for one didn’t even think of the fact that there was a bombing when my friend first read the news, I think I just skipped over what she said before really thinking about the words that had come out of her mouth.

There was a sense of panic for a little while as I ran through my brain who I might know that could possibly have been at the marathon. Some of my cousins had gone to the Red Sox game that day and it had ended before the marathon, so I was nervous they had gone over to watch the runners. Thankfully, they were a mile away when the explosions went off. And then I remembered that the woman I babysit for was actually running in the marathon, but again, thankfully, she had already left the scene. She told me that she had actually finished the marathon fifteen minutes before the first explosion occurred, and I couldn’t help but think how horrible it would have been if she had taken longer to cross the finish line. I’m an agnostic, but in these moments, I threw out any disbelief I may have had and I was thanking God that no one I knew of (at least at the time, I was still thinking of who I might know from UMass that could be at the marathon, since a lot of people who go to UMass are from the Boston area) was injured.

But hearing everything about the deaths and the rising injury toll was so unsettling and upsetting as the day went on. I was eleven when 9/11 happened, and because I was so young and not in New York, it didn’t register to me at the time the full extent of what a horrible event it was. Although this was not nearly the same caliber as 9/11, it hit me so differently, since I’m older now and had to think about the fact that the explosions happened only miles from my home and that people I know could be dangerously affected by them, whether it being physically affected or emotionally, as people I know were bound to know other people who were hurt.

I talk shit about Boston a lot (I’ll be the first to admit it before anyone tries to call me out), mostly because I’ve been around the area for a while and am in the city multiple days a week, so I’m just too used to it and need a change of scenery. But really, I do love Boston. A part of me will forever remain in here. Sure, the people can be loud and obnoxious, but they’re also unique and colorful, no one can deny that. No one at the marathon could have possibly deserved what happened. I complain about people a lot, but I truly believe that. The fact that so many innocent people were attacked while watching something as wholesome as a marathon (it’s really upsetting that this happened at such an innocent event that had no ties to politics or religion, which people are always fighting about. This was seriously such an uncontroversial event, it shows that people just want to see the world be destroyed) still makes me sick to my stomach. But, as Obama has said, Boston is resilient. All of his words about Bostonians are true. Bostonians know how to come to together in times of trouble and work to rise above it all. And for that, I am really thankful, and my heart seriously hurts for everyone who was injured or affected in any possible way by these attacks.

It’s also truly something amazing to see the outpouring of love from people in other countries, where attacks like this are an everyday occurrence. I cannot even begin to fathom how these people get by in their day-to-day lives. It’s really incredible to me, and my heart also goes out to them. I don’t know what is wrong with some people on this Earth, but seeing such demonstrations of love and care from all around shows me that despite how much I might not understand society or why humans can act so terribly to one another, there are amazing people out there still who can take the time to not dwell on their own suffering and offer some encouraging words to those of us who haven’t dealt with such traumatic events so we don’t necessarily know how to handle them. I need to keep such thoughts in the back of my head as time goes on, because it’s nice to be reminded that there is good in the world, despite all of the ugliness that may be around.

Boston strong.

Boston strong.

i need to get my frank sinatra playlist in order

15 Apr

As much as I like to think of myself as a realist, I think I have to accept that my thoughts lean toward those of a pessimist point of view. The proverbial cup tends to be neither half full nor half empty, but instead, almost entirely empty. I like to pretend that I think this way because it’s the most realistic approach, but really, I think I’m trying to fool myself into thinking I’m less a miserable human being than I really am.

But despite my affinity for thinking the worst, I have some impending new life changes on the horizon that I am actually actively making myself think positively about, lest I have a panic attack every twenty minutes every single day. I am planning to move in June to New York with my good friend Lauren (check out her blog, suckers. She’s on this site, too. There’s a chance she’s the only person reading this entry. There’s also a chance she’s not reading it at all. Let’s hope for the best) to get the hell out of Massachusetts and try something new to further our lives. They’re pretty bleak in Watertown. If I stay here too much longer I might explode. I actually assume my body is going to explode at some point, but it would be so much more eventful if it happened in the big city (da big apple lolzzzz).

I want to take this time to make a special shout out to my palz Steph and Liz; Steph who was my roommate soulmate when we were paired together in London and Lauren and I will also be living with once we move, and Liz, who was one of my roommates in Amherst last year but is now in New York, and I cannot wait to live in the same vicinity as again. Both of them make the thought of the move even more exciting. Moving with Lauren does, too, I guess. Lololololzzzzz #BadassBitch #LuvMyGrlz

Now to be serious and genuine on this blog for once in my life. I’m looking to get into television production. Ideally at some point I would love to write for television, but for the time being, I’d be more than happy working my way through the business and would be ecstatic just to be a part of it. My biggest passion is probably television and I don’t care how sad that makes me sound, it’s what field I want to be involved in because I feel like it’s what I am destined to be a part of eventually. I’m twenty-two, this is the best time for me to go. I’m young enough where even if I totally fuck up, I have time to figure my life out. I like having that option. It’s scary, but also amazing.

I am also at the point in my life where I need a change of environment. Living at home is not a problem because my parents are overbearing or anything, I really get a lot of freedom here. It’s the fact that I’m twenty-two and I lived away for four years and am not used to being here anymore. I shouldn’t be in Watertown. Aside from family and (roughly four) friends, there is nothing here for me. It’s time for me to leave the Boston area and go somewhere new that has more opportunity for me. I’m really looking forward to the change and I really think I need it for my mental stability and wellbeing. I don’t know if you all (all zero of you) have sensed it, but I’m more on the crazy side than the sane side, and I’m hoping to maybe even that out a bit more if I’m somewhere else.

Also, my favorite place that I have ever lived is London. I never thought I would see myself as someone who would love to live in a city, but ever since I came back from there, I’ve missed being in a big city so much. Sure, Boston is a city, but it’s too small for me. I need somewhere bigger, with tons of boroughs to explore. I don’t need a square I can walk from destination to destination in. The second I got to Piccadilly Square in London, I immediately thought of Times Square. The more I went around London and then later went around New York, the two reminded me of one another. I think that New York will be a great London substitute since I can’t make my way back there (as of now, it would be amazing if I could eventually live there again, but who knows what’s gonna happen in life? I ain’t a psychic or nothin’), I might as well be as close as I can be here in the states. I think that’s something I need.

So, because of my excitement over the idea of being somewhere new, I need to keep my thoughts positive. I know how difficult it can be to survive in the city. But, I can’t focus on that. Sometimes, when I’m trying to fall asleep at night, I can’t stop thinking about money and moving and costs and jobs and everything that a person is supposed to worry about when going through a transition like this. And whenever I do, I feel entirely anxious, I want to cry and I cannot shake the feeling. I’ve learned that thinking positively really does make a difference, despite how much I hate optimists (sorry about how horrible that sounds, but I just think they’re so unrealistic and I don’t like inspirational quotes. They have no place in my life), I know I need to remain optimistic about the move to New York or I will absolutely lose my mind and not be able to function for probably a solid week. And that would get me nowhere. Because all that’s keeping me here now is the fact that I’m making money for my move and I can’t do that if I’m not functioning. I need to be at least partially functioning in order to get some dolla billz. I never thought I’d be someone to keep her head up so much, but hey, I guess that’s just what’s going on now. Hopefully I can someday soon return to the self-deprecating, self-loathing, mentally unstable pessimist we all know and have come to ignore. But for now, I guess I’ll keep thinking positively and listen to “Baby Don’t Cry”, both parts I and II, by Tupac to get me through life.

I suggest you all listen to Tupac regardless of your life situation. 1 luv.

Oh, also, I’m going to Governor’s Ball and I am pumped as fuck about that. Our move to New York coincides with the weekend of Governor’s Ball (for the most part), so that just makes me doubly as excited to get to June and be in New York. Good things on the horizon, people. Good things.

Again, listen to Tupac. He speaks some powerful words.

it’s more the idea i care for than the actual realized version of it

13 Apr

My mother has done a lot for me throughout my life. She has raised me, clothed me, fed me, taught me much of what I know that has shaped me as a person. But, I’d have to say that arguably the best thing she has ever done for me is passing on her ridiculous and uncalled for fear of animals to me. 

This might confuse some people. It’s a good thing “some people” don’t read this blog. However, I really hate animals and I have irrational fears of them touching me, and a lot of that has to do with the fact that my mother is the same way and I learned this from her. I am by no means an animal person, and I think that this has helped me value humans more. This is interesting because I really hate humans, so let’s think about how terrible I’d be if I didn’t have animals to compare them to. This entire post will probably be the most controversial thing I will ever write because are so weirdly sensitive about their pets. I don’t entirely understand why they feel the need to defend these animals. It’s not like they birthed their pets themselves. If I insult an animal, it should really affect other people in no way. Your dumb pet is in no way a reflection of you being dumb (but you’re probably dumb, too).

People tell me that I’m not an animal person because I never had pets when I was younger. Let’s be clear: that’s untrue. I had a pet crab and a pet fish (actually two pet fish because my friend let mine die while in her care and then sneakily bought me a new one without telling me, and then I accidentally let that one die). Those obviously aren’t “big” pets or whatever you want to call them, but I was their owner, and they just happened to die because I am not an animal person. That’s actually not true, all animals eventually die, they were going to die regardless of if I was their owner or not. But aside from this, I’m happy I’m not an animal person. My mother has the belief that you should not trust anything if it walks but isn’t human. I take this to heart, and because of it, I have a heightened fear of animals even touching me/being around me/in my presence than anyone actually should.

I should also mention that I am allergic to fur (which people also see as a bias on my end, but I don’t care about biases, we all know this), and rather than growing out of my allergies, they’ve actually become worse as I’ve gotten older. I now get physical reactions in the form of hives if I sit on a couch that’s covered in animal fur or if an animal happens to touch me. This puts me in a state of fear that is extremely overwhelming. Like I actually get anxiety when I think about being in the presence of certain animals that I know have an affinity for coming up near me and rubbing against me. Or even being in a house that I know I will get a reaction from because of the dander in the air. It freaks me the fuck out (I actually freak the fuck out if I go to someone’s house and there’s an animal just walking around in general, it doesn’t even have to touch me. I just have the fear it’s going to and that I’ll die).

I sometimes am asked to feed my neighbors’ cats and this is a horrible job for a person like me, but I always do it because they pay me, and let’s be honest, what I care about most in this world is money. Anyway, this family has two cats. One of them leaves me alone and just walks away, but the other one likes to rub against my legs because it wants to be played with. I am sorry, but I’m not sacrificing my ability to breathe and not have an asthma attack because a cat wants to be played with. I simply do not give enough of a shit about the happiness of animals to do so. Also it’s summertime whenever they ask me to feed the cats, so I’ll be wearing shorts and the thought of the cat rubbing against my bare legs is more than I can handle. I once learned how to trick the cats into the basement, but the next time I tried the same trick, the evil cat HISSED at me. I was so ridiculously scared that I ran out of the house. This shouldn’t be how a grown up handles a situation like this, but my mother taught me well, so I knew to escape as fast as possible (don’t worry about that devil cat, I ended up wearing pants over instead of shorts so if it rubbed against me, it wouldn’t touch my direct skin. But I still flinched whenever it came near me. Also, I started bringing other people with me to distract the cat while I dished out its disgusting food).

What I also admire about my mother is that she, like me, doesn’t care to hear stories about people’s pets. Sometimes stories about pets can be funny, I will admit that. For example, my friend Amanda’s dog Bella eats glass a lot. That isn’t inherently funny I suppose, but the way she delivers the story is always entertaining, so she wins me over there. I guess it’s not so much the context of her pet stories, but really her line delivery. So I guess I really just don’t like stories about pets otherwise. Also, I know her dogs, so I’m more likely to have interest in her stories than other people’s. Like, if I’m in a conversation with someone else and we’re talking about human beings, don’t start telling me about your pets. Pets are not the same as human beings to me. I am SO sick of seeing people upload pictures of their pets. My Instagram and Facebook feeds really do not need to be full of pictures of cats and dogs, both of which I don’t care about and don’t desire to see pictures of. No matter how cute you think your cat is, I will never agree and I will never think it deserves to take up so much of my social media space, or yours for that matter. Oh another thing, I love babies. So if we’re talking about babies, DEFINITELY don’t start telling me about your pet. I would much rather my feeds be filled with pictures of other people’s babies than other people’s pets. Babies are everything to me. I’m absolutely a baby person, I could talk about and play with babies for hours. You can hate that about me, I don’t care, but I’ll just think you were born without a heart.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, invisible robot reading this post. “There have to be some animals you like! Like you just mentioned your friend Amanda’s pets that you already know. That’s a positive on the side of those of us who foolishly enjoy the company of animals!” You know what, imaginary friend? You are correct. In theory, I do like animals. They are fun. I love monkeys, giraffes, and penguins. I think those are my top three animals. But, it doesn’t mean I’d enjoy being around these animals. I’d probably end up crying.

But if we’re talking about domestic animals, aka animals there’s actually a chance I’d end up being in the presence of, that’s another story. I fucking HATE cats. They are the spawn of the devil, they are so terrible in every single way. Kittens can look cute, but cats definitely hate everyone and you never know what they fuck they’re thinking, and I’m convinced that what they are thinking is to overturn the human race. Stupid dicks. Hate them. I have some friends who have pet dogs that I can stand being around, but only because these dogs are docile. Aside from Amanda’s dog (not even her dog Bella, really, I’m allergic to her. More Amanda’s dog Hammy, who is chill as fuck), my friend Laura has two pet dogs, Charlie and Biscuit. I like Biscuit because he is older and doesn’t touch me, but he will sit next to me and he feels nice to pet. Also, he’s a bischon frisé, so he doesn’t have fur and doesn’t bother my allergies. However, Laura also has a dog named Charlie, and as much as she loves him, I really dislike him because not only does he jump all over me, but he also licks me. That’s actually repulsive. I don’t need you licking me, dog. I once slept over another friend’s house and was awoken by her dog licking my face and I almost threw up. I have no time for such shenanigans. I also really dislike when big dogs have too much energy and act hyper like little dogs. It’s one thing if Laura’s dog Charlie jumps on my legs because he’s tiny, but it’s another thing if a full-grown dog does the same because he can knock me over. Like, I don’t need to fear for my life that an animal is going to knock me down and then possibly continue running all over me because they have no sense of personal space. I have a bubble and you need to step out of it. It’s just rude.

I also have a fear that animals are going to poop or pee on me if I’m holding them.  This is probably irrational, but it could happen, and I don’t need that on me. Leave me alone. Let’s see, what else do I have to say about animals? I just genuinely don’t like touching them or being near them, unless they are a dog that does not have fur and can calm itself down. That’s pretty much it. I like the idea of other animals, but wouldn’t want them in my presence. Animals just smell so bad. It’s so gross. I do like memes of animals (usually cats) with imposed text over them, that does make me laugh. But this in no way means I would actually want a cat near me. Cats can go fuck themselves. Life would just be so much easier if animals weren’t ever in my presence. Also, this could be controversial, but like, no one reads this blog so who cares. I really hate it when people value the lives of animals over the lives of humans. Like I hate when I’m watching a scary movie and a human dies and someone has no response, but then a dog does and someone goes “awww”. Like, a human was just murdered. Why is the animal dying worse than the human dying? I just don’t like when people would choose saving an animal over a human. Call me cold hearted, I don’t care. Humans don’t usually make me sneeze. That’s more than I can say about animals.

It does make me sad, however, that I can never be a spinster surrounded by cats, since I would rather be buried alive than live with cats. It’s just such an easy cop out as a way to live life, and let’s be real, I’m on my way to being alone forever. But, I can’t have cats so I can’t fit that amazing archetype. I figure I’ll just be the crazy television lady instead. I’ll live out the rest of my sad life watching tv shows and complaining about them on the internet. So pretty much, I’m going to continue doing what I’m doing now, but possibly making even less money. If I don’t need a human to share the rest of my life with, I sure as FUCK don’t need a smelly animal.

Oh, also, I have an irrational fear of anteaters. Like I can’t even look at pictures of them without panicking. But that’s really another topic for another day.

For your enjoyment, here is my favorite animal meme.

For your enjoyment, here is my favorite animal meme.

you’d think after twentytwo years i’d be used to the spin #brighteyes #lolol :P

11 Apr

My elaborate foray into the beautiful and pristine world that is “OkCupid” led me to an interesting thought that I had not really given the correct amount of time pondering in the past. I noticed that a common trend in many of the messages I have received on the website (mostly not mentioned in that blog post because they’re really not that entertaining, sorry I’m not sorry) is being complimented on for being a girl that “I can actually talk to” by these men/guys/boys/chipmunks. Obviously, this is meant as a positive thing, that a guy can actually have a conversation with me and that I’m not just some dumb idiot there to look good (I probably don’t look good). However, the more I think about it, the more it makes me wonder why these guys are expecting me to take what they have said to me in such high esteem. Am I supposed to be honored that you think that I’m smart enough to hold a conversation with? What are you saying about my fellow females on OkCupid? How much can you really learn about someone from a dating website, especially from someone who is just entirely self-deprecating and doesn’t take it seriously? Thanks for all of the praise that you don’t think I’m some stupid sack of shit, but I don’t need your validation, boys (who run the world, GIRLS, all that shit right here).

But thinking about this reminded me of an experience I had with a guy over the summer. I was in Northampton, Massachusetts, home to hipsters and weirdos, but also home to some very cool people, shops, and concert venues. Some friends and I were visiting Amherst for the weekend (UMASS WUTUP?! ZOOMASS 4 LYF) and decided to bus it to NoHo for one of our nights out. We went to a bar called “Tunnel Bar” which was pretty cool, actually located under a tunnel. There was almost nowhere to move, but me and my girlz are resourceful and found our way to the bar right away. A guy standing there was wearing a Bright Eyes shirt, so I decided to tell him I liked it because I genuinely did, they happen to be one of my favorite bands (they made 9th grade a whole lot easier. I was pretty ugly then), and I thought it would be a pretty safe thing to do. A typical response to “I like your shirt” would probably be, “cool, thanks” or “oh thank you” or something along those lines. No. This pretentious fucker couldn’t just accept what I said, he had to assume that I was some ridiculous poser who was just saying that to sound cool. So, when I said, “I like your shirt”, his response was, “…why?” Like excuse me? Why? Why do you think I like your shirt? Because of the cotton it was made from? The quality of the stitching? Obviously because I’m a Bright Eyes fan, fucker. I told the man that Bright Eyes is one of my favorite bands, and instead of just accepting my answer, he asked, “what’s your favorite album?” Fuck you, that’s my favorite album. That’s absolutely what I should have said to him before storming off to “I’m Every Woman” by Chaka Khan, but instead I indulged and gave him my actual answer. Apparently the album I chose “isn’t usually people’s favorite” (his words), so that satisfied him enough to decide that I was legitimate and he could have a conversation with me. The whole thing was just so asinine and stupid, the guy couldn’t have just accepted that someone like his shirt without an ulterior motive.  The conversation ended there, as I decided it was an appropriate time for me to walk away. For the record, sir, I was not hitting on you, I just wanted to tell you I appreciate your shirt. I do not, however, appreciate you existing. Sashay away, please.

That situation was just so annoying and stupid to me. Why did I need to stand there proving myself to this absolute stranger just to gain his acceptance? He was clearly fishing for just the right answers from me before I could pass his demented test to show that I was “cool” enough for him. Obviously not all the guys who send messages on OkCupid telling me that it’s great that I’m a girl (they always say girl, never woman. I’m 22, God dammit) they could see themselves carrying on a conversation with are looking to say that in a demeaning way, implying that I have lived up to their standards of who makes a satisfactory conversationalist. But, I know for a fact that there are guys out there who believe that telling women that they think they are smart is the highest honor they could bestow upon the women, because they “wouldn’t tell a woman she was smart if they didn’t fully believe it” (I know of an actual “human being” who told a female friend of mine this). I don’t know if my point is coming across clearly, but really, all I’m trying to say is that I appreciate knowing that you think I’m smart, I think most people appreciate hearing that about themselves, but I don’t need to live up to whatever standards you have for me to gain your approval, and neither does any other woman. You telling me that I can actually carry on a conversation is nice to hear, but it’s coming off a bit more condescending than you’d anticipated. Or maybe you anticipated it because you think that you’re really flattering me in the best way possible. Guess I’ll just suck your dick now, huh? You think I’m smart!

Yeah, this went in a really weird direction. It’s one of those situations that a guy can’t really win in. I like being complimented on something other than my looks, such as my brain and wit, but I don’t NEED the compliment from you. Instead of telling me I’m a good conversationalist, why don’t you just have a conversation with me? That’s a novel idea. I’m a genius for thinking of it. I deserve a prize. See, I really am smart!

But really, how about no one compliment me on my brain or my looks or anything else. I’m trying this thing where I live under a rock for the rest of my life and never interact with other human beings, so any positive comments toward me are really just going to derail my lifelong dreams and goals. Thank you all kindly, and please remember to spay and neuter your pets.