By now, you guys probably think I'm a
bitter, angry bitch with a cold, cold heart. I'm not saying I'm not,
but I do tend to write more about things I dislike than about things
I like. What can I say? There's nothing particularly funny about
liking something.
Here are some (more) things that
irritate me:
Childish Pajamas
A couple of days ago I went shopping
for a pair of pajamas. I didn't think this was gonna be a big ordeal.
I said to myself, "I'm going to go into the shop, find a pair of
pajamas, and buy them." I thought this might take me about
twenty minutes, counting time at the check-out.
Then I get to the shop and find that
all the f*cking pajamas have cartoon characters on them. Snoopy.
Garfield. Cinderella. Mickey Mouse. Spongebob F*cking Squarepants.
Now, listen here, Corporate America, I
am damn near thirty years old. I am not wearing Spongebob Squarepants
pajamas. The stupidity would keep me awake.
Then, I found some that looked like
this...
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| (Genevieve) |
...because if you're not seven, you're
apparently eighty-five.
I guess I'm supposed to go to bed
wearing this...
 |
| (Tranquil Garden) |
...despite the fact that a) I am
planning to sleep, not have sex and b) if I were planning to have
sex, I wouldn't bother with the sexy nightie because you know it
wouldn't stay on anyway.
 |
| They have a way of mysteriously falling off. |
Fictional Characters with Really Nice
Homes
It's always bothered me when fictional
characters have nicer homes than I do, which is always. It's not
fair. They're not even real.
But then again, I guess the homes
aren't real either. And you can totally tell, because they're always
really nice homes. Like, way nicer than the homes of anyone I
know. It's like we're supposed to identify with all of these
characters on television and in the movies, despite the fact that
they're much, much wealthier than us and have soft, pink little girl
hands on account of never having worked a day in their lives.
 |
| Damn you, Ferris Bueller. |
Women Who Aren't Feminists
No offense, ladies, but I don't
understand how you can be a modern woman and not be a feminist.
Whether you're a career girl, a single mom, a housewife or all three,
somehow, it doesn't matter. Your ancestors and peers have fought hard
so that you could choose your own lot in life and not be seen as a
piece of property. Saying you're not a feminist is like saying you're
a piece of livestock, only worse, since even animals have rights.
I've always wondered if women who claim
they're not feminists are actually just afraid of scaring their men.
I can't find another explanation.
 |
| Aliens? |
Mangagement Rings
That is, engagement rings for men. As
in you, a woman, are expected to get down on your cute little
knee, whip out a jewelry box and propose f*cking marriage.
If you really wanna scare your man,
this would be a good way, ha ha ha.
Believe me, it feels a bit weird to put
this entry right after the entry about feminism, but I'm going to do
it anyway. I've been out of the country for a few years and I only
just heard about this. It freaked me out a little bit. I mean, sure,
plenty of other cultures encourage the men to wear engagement rings
as well as the women, and in any cause I suppose there's no way
around it if you're gay, but this is the United States of America,
where we say one thing and do another. Feminism is all well and good,
but offering the marriage proposal is the man's job, cause if we
ladies started doing it, well, you'd see a lot more random sprinters,
that's what.
You might say, “Fair's fair, and if I
have to wear one, he should too.” Have it your way, but I see
through this engagement ring business. They made this sh*t up to sellmore diamonds during the Depression. It's about as ancient a
tradition as sending birthday wishes on Facebook.
Personally, I'm planning to get married
in Vegas, whilst drunk, by an Elvis impersonator. I don't wear rings,
and you know I can't get away with wearing white. Besides, I hate
weddings.
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| But give me a funeral any day of the week. |
