Category: You’re the Worst
Don’t You Know about the New Fashion, Honey?
Social networks are one of the coolest things about the internet (besides the widespread availability of cat pictures, obviously). Sites like Facebook and Twitter really have changed the way we interact, for better or for worse. I love messing around with new trends in social media, but there are some extremely popular sites I simply don’t get. For example, I’m 80% sure FourSquare exists so burglars know when you’re not home, and I keep using Instagram to take pictures of words, which sort of defeats the purpose. There’s one particular site that’s completely beyond me, though, and I resent it.
I will never understand Pinterest.
Pinterest reminds me of high school lockers, except in this case the locker was designed by Martha Stewart and smells amazing. Some people dedicate the inside of their locker door exclusively to pictures of corgis in sweaters. Some people use it to save messages about positive body image, confusingly combined with pictures of people working out until they fall over dead. Some people just post pictures of their hair. One girl is using the inside of her locker door for pictures of David Bowie during his particularly coked-up years because she didn’t understand she was supposed to be collecting recipes for healthy variations on french fries. That girl is me.
Frighteningly-skinny David Bowie and I have no time for your baked zucchini strips.
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Oh! You Pretty Thing
I’ll be the first to admit I’m not brave. I’m scared of choking while alone in my apartment, I once had a massive panic attack brought on by thinking about ringworm, and I live in fear of the day my boss realizes my job is not difficult and sends me home forever.
This is a cold, unfriendly planet, fraught with incidents of asphyxiation, fungal infections, and job termination. I often want to escape for a while, maybe by popping in a movie. I do not want that movie to be scary.
For the record, I’m not a baby. I’ve seen things that would curl your hair– fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling! The dead rising from the grave! Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria! Things were pretty grim, but then four guys in coveralls climbed onto the roof of a skyscraper, challenged a god with an ’80s haircut, toasted a giant marshmallow man, and solved the whole problem. I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.
Ghostbusters counts as a horror movie, right?
Take Me in Your Arms
It’s OK to Hug Me…
…when you are a puppy.
…when I am drunk. Not tipsy– good and drunk.
…when I say, “I could really use a hug from someone who smells the way a donut shop smells in the early morning” and you happen to be wearing your new scent, Eau de Early-Morning Patisserie.
A donut is basically a food hug.
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Caviar and Cigarettes, Well-Versed in Etiquette
I bought an etiquette book last weekend because I’m kind of punk rock.
No, really.
T.S. Eliot once said, ”It’s not wise to violate the rules until you know how to observe them.”
He also said, “After I die, don’t namedrop me in blog posts. It’s pretentious.”
Everything Dies
I’m regularly accused of being dark, and for a long time I fought that characterization despite some damning evidence.
None of my dresses have spiderwebs on them. Clearly I am a sunny person.
