BEACH BUMMOFICATION

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First of all, “Beach Bum” is a funny term to begin with. Oddly enough it has little to nothing to do with the amount of butts AKA bums populating the sandy shores. It has more to do with the physical act of being a bum. Urban dictionary provides a wide range of examples from general scumbags to Patrick Swayze in Point Break.

What is a beach bum? A Beach Bum is someone who lives on the streets of Santa Monica, wears a garbage bag and showers in the same water that dances with your genitals when you enter the ocean. Having said that, why is this whole “beach bum” thing so popular among girls nowadays? Could it be because we as humans are generally fond of taking something awful and putting a positive spin on it? I mean take flair jeans for example. What an awful trend! And yet, they’re making a comeback. Everything once old can become new again, if you paint it the right way. In fact, everything that is new has already been done before and will be done again after you’re long gone. Nothing is new. The media force feeds you a certain idea much like ducks are force fed corn meal so you can have fancy foie gras for dinner, and you swallow it like the obedient society’s servant that you are. No.. I’m not going to take the dark, scenic detour, as interesting as it may be (save it for another time). I will stick to the subject at hand. Beach!

Let’s talk about all the things that suck about the beach. But before I do, I’d like to point out that I myself adore the beach and I go there every chance I get, which is rare but perhaps that is why we are able to remain such good friends.  So if all these things about the beach that suck don’t bother you enough to officially stop going there, then it is safe to say that you’ve been bummified and you can now go around posting pictures of your “Beach Bum” selfies proudly and completely aware of what you’re doing instead of following a herd of other instagrammers and facebookers.

  1. BEACH HAIR, DON’T CARELet’s face it, there is nothing good about Beach Hair. Nothing. It’s close to impossible to maintain. Salt is everywhere and joining sand by the hip, it’s taking over and making everything dry and unmanageable. And yet… What do you now see on shelves of supermarkets? That’s right – “Beach Hair” products. Don’t have the time to go down the shore and get dirty? No problem! Just come down to your local CVS and pick up your very own salt in a bottle. Spritz it on and Viola, you now have the look of someone who spent the day at the beach. And don’t forget to pick up that self-tanner on the next shelf over. Oh and next time you’re at the gym which so conveniently provides tanning booths nowadays, bring a bathing suit.. Why settle for a flawless tan when you can have a pretend “I went to the beach and these are my tan lines” thing going on…
  2. GLITTERGlitter is the route to all evil. Sure it looks fun and sparkly but holy damn, does it get everywhere. And you don’t even know how it gets there! God forbid someone gives you a B-day card with glitter on it. Next thing you know, you’re literally pulling glitter out of your ass. And by literally I mean literally. You don’t even have to ingest glitter to make your shit sparkle. It just happens on its own, as if by magic. Except it’s not magic because magic is good and glitter is evil. It is just as evil as BEACH SAND. Yeah I said it. You can shake it off to Taylor Swift all you want, you’re still carrying sand inside your trunk and your living room. I’ve even had sand make its way into the inside of my bathing suit. Like between layers of cloth, like within the actual bathing suit. Much like putting a light bulb in your mouth, it’s easy to get it in but impossible to get out. Sand is EVIL and the beach, my dear Beach Bums, is full of it. You’re spreading the evil! Ever tried having sex on the beach? Yeah that’s pretty much asking for trouble. I mean you don’t even have to spread your legs for the sand to end up in your crotch. What do you think happens when you’re willingly opening up to it? Exactly. Now imagine having sex in a bed of litter. Yeah, have fun spending the rest of your life in the shower. It’s cool though, because by the time you come out of the shower for your 80 year old birthday bash, you’ll match the décor, cause you’ll still be sparkling!
  3. TAN LINES ARE NOT SEXY – I’ve literally had ONE single person ever tell me that tan lines are sexy. That poor sap was in Russia and his reasoning was “it shows that a person went on vacation and it also makes them more humane”… Ehhh? I can be humane and go to the nude beach and not have tan lines protruding through my clothes and fucking up my outfit. Also if you’re wearing different bathing suits over the course of several beach/tanning/vacation/whatever sessions, you’re bound to look like you belong to a tribe of some sort. All the tan lines intersect in a weird way and create this chaos of tan VS untan in a constant battle to pull off “who cares” but never actually winning. And even IF you decide to be consistent with your choice of bathing suit style, you’re still stuck with a chimp ass, except it’s white instead of red – The one time when being white in contrast to dark isn’t a win. What do you know! So basically, if you want to avoid tan lines, you have to either resort to fake booth tanning, which.. Fuck that.. Or you have to go to the nude beach. Assuming that you live in ‘Murica and may not necessarily have a nude beach local to you, you may just be shit of luck and have to settle for your backyard. But if you do have one close(ish) to you, and you’re feeling ballsy enough to go, keep in mind that it’s not all about sexy beach bums over there, it’s mostly about BALLS. You get what you deserve being ballsy and all.
  4. HOT POTATO – If you’re going to choose to spend your leisure time by playing hot potato, I would assume that you would gear up with some oven mitts at least. Same goes for the beach. If you know you’re going somewhere where sand meets the hottest element in the galaxy/solar system/whatever, AKA the SUN, and heats up to unimaginable temperatures, you’d take some shoes with you… to protect your feet. It may seem like common sense, but I assure you as someone who is well aware of the repercussions, I have been guilty of the “Shoes? Why do I need shoes? Water will cool off my feet” thoughts. As well as “Beach = Flip Flops”. Stupid stupid stupid woman. Every time I curse myself for thinking I can handle the vast distances of sand and win and every time the blisters on the soles of my feet scream at me “Youuuuuu Loseeee!”
  5. THE “ICK” FACTOR – I don’t really know what happened between my early years, when I could swim in a dirty puddle and not give a crap and now, when I’m skeeved out by just about anything that floats in the water whether it’s dead or alive, but it has become apparent to me that the ocean is not the kind of depths my normally adventurous self is willing to explore. Naturally there is the fear of the unknown. Who knows what goes on there? It’s a whole world of floating fish eggs, whale sperm and copious amounts of urine. And those are things that are supposedly harmless. Let’s not forget that there’s also jelly fish that sting and sharks that have been salivating over your limbs while you were still in traffic on your way there. Sure you can be a fucker and take the shark’s side and be like you’re entering their territory (water), of course they’re gonna attack you. Well here’s the thing. According to shark week and the good old TV that I normally don’t pay much attention to, most shark attacks happen by the “toddler” sharks.. AKA 2 year old sharks. AKA exploring the “field”, AKA not knowing what the fuck they’re doing, but merely trying to figure out what is and isn’t edible. So basically you’re at a crossroad of judging someone/something who is merely “testing the waters”. Well fuck that. There are times to be understanding and there are times to be scared and pissed off. Look at it this way. You’re in traffic. Some asshole in front of you is either going too slow or cutting in front of you. You can either get mad or do nothing cause in reality there’s nothing you really can DO to amend the situation. You can get mad, yes, but what good comes of it? Who knows what his/her reasoning is? Maybe his GF is giving birth in his car and he’s rushing to the hospital. Maybe he’s having a stroke and his feet confused the pedals. What’s the point in getting angry? However… if that very same person was in fact just an asshole who doesn’t know how to drive and he/she caused a ten car pileup with 3 deaths and 4 people injured … is it now justified for you to get angry? Yes. Especially if you or your family are the injured party. If your child died and your wife was paralyzed forever due to someone who was merely driving like an asshole because they were late to work, would you be upset? Would your nature loving, shark protecting self be upset? Um, yeah. You would be. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what THEIR reasoning is as long as it affects you personally. So don’t give me that shit about sharks defending their nature and environment. They’re just dumb scary animals that do crazy shit. And that is why I don’t go in the water. The whole thing is just ICK.

Feeling bummified yet? That last one was kind of dark. Don’t worry; there are plenty of ways to relate without being as pessimistic as I am. The amount of shit I talk about the beach VS the amount I spend there/enjoy it, I might as well call myself a hipster – aka the ultimate hypocrite. Welcome to my world, all you “Beach Bums” you. <3

BOOBS SELL.

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If you gots the boobies and you ain’t got no qualms about using them to your advantage in helping your cash flow, then all the power to you. If you ain’t got no boobies but gots major brains that allow you to use other people’s boobs to your advantage in helping your cash flow, then even more power to you.

Tittygram has found a way to make money merely by taking images of boobs (which remain anonymous by the way, which is friggin genius); combining them with some serious Sharpie action, and throwing the manifested collaboration into the sex starved public as yet another way to send fun little sexually explicit messages.

Our Boobs. Your Message. Talk about a catchy slogan. Short, sweet and to the point.

Needless to say they were incredibly successful in doing so. The Koreans and the Japanese jumped on board real quick along with the Hebrews and the Hindi. I guess it had a bit too much of a child’s play vibe for the Germans to partake in it though, seeing as how they’re not mentioned in the main percentage of participants. Whatevs.

They even go as far as to give you options. The service may cost $30, but if you love all boobs equally and don’t care what the ones that you’ll be writing your messages on look like (because all breasts are beautiful…) then you have the option of paying merely $8, in which case the boobs are chosen for you by the administrator, but as far as I see it, you’re still getting your money’s worth.

According to the article that can be found here, the idea originated with this Russian guy (Gritsenko) basically roaming Russian social networks in search of women who would be willing to participate in his project. I can just imagine a message from some creep in my inbox asking if I’d be interested in shelling out my boobs for money. I would honestly laugh and ignore. Who knew there are enough boobs out there to have helped him more than double the originally invested amount?

Good for him, good for them (his team) and good for them (the boobs).

 

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The Importance of Giving In

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There are all kinds of people out there. We live among one another consumed in our own problems, expecting everyone to accommodate our feelings and behave as we deem fit. We often forget that the things that drive us to act and react are all one and the same for everybody else, even though they are so very different. We really should be more aware of the fact that what we expect of others we don’t often deliver, in fact we do it very rarely.

Some people are completely hypocritical in the sense that they refuse to act a certain way because they truly believe that the common rules of social behavior or decency don’t apply to them, seeing as how they’re clearly superior to everyone around them. Others have the internal desire to be more understanding in a way to not let themselves get all riled up when something doesn’t go their way or the “logical” way even, but still fail when emotions come into play. The moment ego steps up to the plate, everything goes downhill. At least they try I guess. Hey, practice makes perfect. Then there’s a whole other breed of people that are patient and kind, that genuinely do not judge others and don’t get angry, ever. These truly wonderful people are very rare to come by and they usually die of cancer at a very early age or something, because life is a dick like that.

What I’m getting at here is the following. If you’re high strung like me and you constantly want to change the world for the better and make everybody think like you because you’ve already done the calculations and the research shows that you’re right almost all of the time, and people really need to know that, then you need to chill the fuck out. You can’t change the world. You can’t even change the behavior of people in your immediate vicinity. Everyone’s got all kinds of monkeys fiddling with their brains, shuffling poop back and forth causing them to behave one way or another. You can’t control those monkeys and quite frankly why would you want to? Why waste your time on other people’s monkeys when you can’t even tame your own?

So take a chill pill. Have a beer. Take the sun in. Enjoy a dip in the pool. Release the thoughts and concerns that are taking over your sanity and just… Let go for a little. Find pleasure in all the things that you need not to control. I’m not saying become a complete slob and enjoy rolling over crusty Cheetos particles on the couch for the rest of your life. I’m not saying sit on your ass and do nothing thinking that everything is just going to fall into your lap. I’m not saying stop caring about everything and everyone just because you can’t make them see things your way. I’m not saying give UP. It may sound like it means the same thing but it doesn’t. Give into life and all its wonders. Life may be the longest thing you ever experience but it’s still too short to waste it on stress, especially stress that we cause ourselves.

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Single VS Taken

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Single is the new black… The boobs are always bigger on the other side… So many options, so little time… Whichever way you look at it, there doesn’t seem to be a clear, cut throat, most obvious way to go. Unless you’re lucky enough to go back to Pleasantville, nothing is black and white.

Being in a relationship is great. You get to validate your phone plan’s ability to send and receive an unlimited amount of cute little text messages about the nothingness that so greatly describes the details of your day… All the phone calls filled with adorable silences as you listen to each other breathe, suddenly become justified. You don’t have to have a reason to dial the person’s number. They’re your significant other and they signed up to listen to your chatter at any given time of day when they agreed to be exclusive with you, just as much as you agreed to support them in every and all dreams and aspirations that may come along.

There’s always someone to wish good morning and good night to, and you no longer have to handle your Netflix addiction solo because you’ve got your partner in crime joining you on the couch. So you wrap yourself in your security blanket which is probably accompanied by a cat for purrfect cuddlez and you drift away into Couple’s Paradise. Eventually you get tired of lugging your personal belongings and change of clothes back and forth, so you do the obvious, and move in together. Now you get to save on rent, do shopping together, cook dinner together (Yay! Fun!), drink wine together, fall asleep together, wake up to each other’s faces every day, together. Then you’ll probably be like “Hey, I’m tired of Fluffball watching us having sex every time. Let’s get him a friend!” So you get a puppy… Now you have paw prints with both Meow and Woof on your doormat to demonstrate how totes adorbs you are. Soon enough, that becomes not enough and you decide to further develop your clan by reproducing naturally. (I’m skipping the wedding bells here because I feel it would be too big of an “insert” since it’s clearly a category big enough on its own).  So now that you’re popping out babies, you finally get to put your scrapbooking skills to use and that camera that you bought for your travels that you never got to cease, can make its way out of the closet and finally do some damage control. Every second now is a chance to take a beautiful picture of your gorgeous baby and there’s only 86400 seconds in a day so you better get cracking.

With that, a different kind of fun begins. There’s no longer time for Netflix and lazy evenings by the fireplace splitting a bottle of wine with your “Bae”. Your buddies and girlfriends haven’t fully accepted the fact that you’ve entered social isolation yet, but they will soon. Even though you hardly go out anymore you still somehow don’t have any money, because duh, family life. Your furry friends are too now feeling neglected because your main concern is to make sure that your clones grow up with better views on life as you will sooner die than recreate your parents’ mistakes. “When I have kids, I will never do so and so…” You’re so amazingly bright at 17 when life seems so discriminating that you make it a goal of yours to never treat your kids as unfairly as your parents treat you. I’d also like to point out the level of hypocrisy that is going to take place when you “grow up” and unleash your views on first your younger siblings, and then your offspring. It’s almost always inevitable. But hey, you and your partner get to both put suggestions in the “Major Decisions” jar, and it’s probably going to be fun sifting through them, deciding to pick the best ones. And you thought agreeing on colors of the walls was tough…

Seems somewhat black and white doesn’t it? Seems like a template that everyone follows blindly? Ehh, it is and it isn’t. It’s a whole new world! Nothing is what it seems and while some people follow the traditional ways, others choose to lead their life more unconventionally.

I find it hard to choose one or the other. Both sides bring such compelling arguments. On one side, you have these mystical scenarios for perfect relationships coming true and making sense. I adore the idea of an old fashion lifestyle. Big happy family with eight kids, three dogs, a cat, enormous backyard and parents that die of old age, holding hands Notebook style. On the other side you have the more common scenarios of today’s generation filled with experimental stages, drunken mishaps, poor decisions, engagements that last longer than reasonable, unnecessary mind games and other retardation. I’m not saying that any of that is appealing to me. I am however saying that it is that world, today’s world, the world that is the opposite of the old fashion world that happens to be very comfortable and expects very little of you. It allows you to be selfish and alone, and to like it. It pains me to admit it that I like it. It PAINS me because ultimately, I look at the formula of LIFE, and I’m like, hey, this is logical, this makes sense, I want that… and yet… I’m still like EHHHHHH … Come to think of it, that’s a lot of work. I’d rather be selfish and do things that make sense right here and right now and for MEEEEEE….

So, for all you non-cynical assholes out there, unlike me, if you can make your relationships work and achieve life’s greatness with someone by your side, all the power to you. I’ll stay here, on the dark side and eat my cookies.

Why? One word. Organizedchaos. Everything is where is it needs to be and no one is there to judge me for it. No I don’t have too much stuff for my hair and face in the bathroom. Yes, I have “enough” of lotions and face masks. No, that hair brush isn’t the same as the other three in my pretty wicker basket under the sink. Yes that wicker basket serves a different purpose than my 4 other baskets in the closet… No I don’t need you to combine the 5 different hair conditioners into one bottle to save space! Each and every one of those has a purpose and you just don’t understand because you shave with your shampoo and you wash your hair with soap… Sure all that may seem trivial, but it adds up.

Then there’s the cuddling. Who doesn’t love cuddling? Love cuddling. Until you’re cuddling me so hard that you’re choking me. Come on now, you’ve done the diligence. You’ve shown your interest. We had sex, you choked me, I bit you, you smacked me, I spit on you, you hugged me, it’s beautiful, now move on over to the other side of the bed and let me sleep in peace. Thanks. Honesty, right?? You can’t say that though! Because that’s mean… What do you mean you don’t want to hold me all night long? But honey bunches, but bumble cakes, but but but… But I want you with me, next to me, to be a part of me all day every day….. But but but… get the fuck off of me and move over! You’re suffocating me with your love…

Can’t forget about the grooming… If you’re with someone, you probably shape things up down there. Whether your lover likes a little bit of hair or a lotta bit of hair, it requires some sort of maintenance regardless. Guess what, when you’re single, no maintenance required. You feel like shaving your arm pits today? Go for it! Not feeling it? No biggie! Guys wanna sport their Duck Dynasty hairstyle? By all means, there isn’t a girlfriend in sight to complain about it. The only person that matters in that decision making process is you! Same goes for food shopping and food consuming. Same goes for everything really. It’s so much easier to control everything around you when you’re the only one making decisions. No one is going to ask you what time you’ll be home. No one is going to tell you that they’re tired of your mashed potatoes. No one is going to nag you about anything. No one is going to interrupt reading time with conversations about what happened at work that day. No one is going to hog the remote control. No need to have the conversation about whether or not you want to keep the TV on when you go to bed or off, because one person likes silence and the other person can’t sleep without background noise. No one is going to wake you up with sexual requests. Don’t get me wrong, morning sex is great… But on MY time. Sleepy time is important time and the selfish beast shall not be bothered with the lovey dovey nonsense unless it is initiated during appropriate time frames. Must dig deep into selfish beast’s brain to retrieve allotted time frames as they are not available in the common sense category.

So there you have it. Selfish Life versus Patient Love. Some of us pick one and stick to it, and others dart in between the two relying on the intricate, constantly changing reasoning our minds provide us with.

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Battle of the Sexes

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This one is equivalent to the ultimate chocolate cake with the umpteenth amount of layers. It’s the kind of concoction that’s not only layered on the inside with gooey fudge and Devil’s food cake, but also whose layers are layered in a massive tier, one more complicated than the one beneath it. It’s the kind of cake that Alice would come across as she’s stumbling around the Wonderland, probably drunk. It’s the kind of cake you see in your dreams as you’re flying about, chasing dragons and whatnot right before there’s a gun pointed to your head, telling you to swallow it whole which suddenly makes the cake unreasonably larger. This weird ass fucking cake is the epitome of everything that makes zero sense now and even less sense in the future as it becomes the bottomless hole of our society, very accurately representing the ultimate battle of the sexes.

The reason I’m comparing the relationship between men and women to the most complicated, inexplicable, rich and decadent of cakes is because when you come across one that is equivalent to an explosion in your mouth, you’re so taken aback by it that you don’t know what to do. Do you try to dissect it and figure out the recipe or do you just let it go and chalk it up to all things that are better left untouched?

No matter what the logical and possibly wise portion of your brain tells you to do, you’re human so naturally you’re going to do the opposite. You’re going to sit there on your high horse regardless of your gender and chances of you letting go get slimmer as the other person grows more stubborn, inevitably so.

As a woman, you’re bound to make references to previously made arguments, possibly even ones from situations not DIRECTLY related to whatever particular thing you’re currently arguing about. That’s what women do; they store information to retain the ability to attack you with it at a later point in time. Even though those references are accurate, rest assured they will be dismissed on account of irrelevancy, unfortunately so. As a woman you will more often than not be viewed as just another nag whose mouth is moving too often in comparison to the speed that she’s making sandwiches at. As a woman you’re bound to face opponents of the opposite gender who are just way too focused on NOT giving in to the “weaker species” than they are, to be able to see the truth and logic at hand. After all, why should they, you’re just a woman.

As a man, you’re bound to raise your voice when you feel that you are not being heard, more often than not without realizing that you are doing so. As a man, the chances of you not saying something along the lines of “You’re crazy/psychotic” to a woman you’re in an argument with are slim to none. You’re then definitely guaranteed to get frustrated with both the situation at hand and the fact that you’ve been sucked into said discussion in the first place which will inevitably cause you to say shit that’s utterly irrelevant to the conversation at hand. You’ll try to back it up, but fail. You’ll refuse to accept that you failed and after initially continuing to try and prove some resemblance of an initial point, you’ll check out entirely on the account of you’re tired and over it completely. Then, as a man, you will probably try to brush the entire thing off as just another friendly brawl, failing to do so because by the time you will have decided that it’s time to end whatever discussion at hand, it’s already too late in the woman’s mind.

You, as a man may be checked out of a conversation, in a short term of things, but by that point she, being a much more complicated creature, as God intended her to be, has already checked out of it in a much bigger scheme of things.

You can’t have your cake and eat it too, they say. Well… What’s different about this cake is that it ends up being regurgitated on your lap after you try to swallow a bigger piece than you can handle. So keep fighting the battle ladies and gentlemen. Eat your cake, and have it too.

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KISS AND TELL

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Kissing may be the lightest form of sexual interaction but it’s by no means the smallest or least important. Kissing someone and realizing it just doesn’t click is extremely disgruntling. Surely, a situation in which you’ve been waiting to kiss them for a while because you wanted to make sure you like them enough first is a bit more disappointing when the kiss doesn’t work out than if you just jumped into it right away. Either way there is guaranteed to be a presence of sadness when your mouths finally decide to abandon the task at hand, unable to tackle it.

Some people will give it another shot, thinking that maybe if they approach it from a different angle or with a newer fresher strategy, they might succeed. A lot of others will simply write it off as a failure and move on to explore alternative options.

Bad kissers are the worst. But wait…

Is there such a thing as a bad kisser or does it merely come down to compatibility?

Let’s say I go out with a guy whose idea of kissing happens to resemble a scene with an excited puppy that just got a brand new chew toy. He’s licking all around my mouth, tickling my teeth and borderline attacking my nostrils – he’s all over my face. That’s not my thing. But let’s say that I give him the benefit of the doubt. Thinking that maybe if I craftily and carefully navigate his tongue where I want it to go, he’ll follow the directions like a good boy and the kiss will be salvaged. He doesn’t. At this point I want to refer to him as just another stupid dog, but I calmly assure myself that as disappointing as it may be, I can’t get mad at the dog. It’s not his fault; he was probably just poorly trained by his previous owner.

Let’s say that somewhere out there, roaming the streets is my perfect kissing partner who has yet to land onto my mouth. As he’s searching for me he’s bound to stumble upon some dog smooching sessions himself. I can just see him running away from the darting tongues and fuzzy lips as he’s probably bleeding from his lower lip due to exaggerated bite marks – Poor thing.

Let’s say my future husband escapes from the wild pack of Chihuahuas as I too manage to break free from the wet dog that’s all up on me. Let’s say it all works out and the ones that were rejected by us find one another in one giant, harmonious kissing orgy and live happily ever after.

“One person’s trash is another person’s treasure” – couldn’t be more applicable.

Much like there are different tastes in music, movies and just about everything else, I believe kissing to be very much a subjective matter. Having said that, if the person whose lips are upon yours isn’t doing what you want them to do, the best thing to do is to communicate that. If he/she stands firm on the fact that he/she isn’t the problem and therefore will not budge to find a happy medium then perhaps it isn’t meant to be. A lot of times though, especially if the attraction is past the physical aspect, people will be happy to accommodate and explore. What’s the worst that can happen? You’ll go your separate ways? You were planning on doing that anyway. At least you tried. Who knows, maybe you’ll create something wonderful instead.

Voice your needs.

Ask and you shall receive.

Now get on with it; lots of frogs out there waiting for your attention. Kiss them and tell them how you feel about it.

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I Don’t Always Listen to the Radio, But When I Do…

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So I was up at the crack of dawn one morning, playing chauffer; operating a rental car whilst bravely embracing the hungover zombie status I’ve acquired due to activities the night before. At this point I haven’t even had my coffee yet, so driving someone early as hell wasn’t exactly my favorite of activities, but at least the weather was nice. People had already begun to crawl out of their caves as they filled the streets witch chatter and horn honking which I blissfully chose to tune out along with the shitty radio station that I didn’t bother changing. I hardly ever listen to the radio, but this was a rental That was until I half heard a woman call in and tell the world that she cheated on her fiancé and she didn’t know whether or not she should tell him. Naturally my ears perked up. Hangover or not I wanted to know what this dumb bitch was thinking calling the radio station, discussing the concerns of her private life.

Her name is Vivian and apparently she’s been feeling neglected by her soon to be husband because he’s hardly ever home. Long story short she went out to a club with her “girls”, got drunk and slept with a random dude. So now she’s calling the radio station asking for advice on how to best handle the situation.

First of all, not only is the mere fact that she’s broadcasting her voice along with her name and secrets to the world borderline retarded, but she’s also doing it in a laid back,” no big deal” kind of way. “What am I gonna do? I already bought the dress and everything” she says. That’s your major concern, lady? You’re worried about the dress and not the potentially broken heart of your fiancé?

So they sit back and they talk about it for a little bit. It turns out the reason he isn’t home as much as she’d like him to be is because he works long hours, supporting the two of them – Interesting. They ask her how she thinks he’ll react if she does in fact tell him the big news about her being a hoe, and whether or not it may be worth it telling him in the first place. Perhaps sweeping it under the rug and never telling him seeing as how she’s not planning on cheating again is a better strategy. Her response is the following – “Oh no, I love him! I’m definitely never gonna cheat on him again. I hope”. She hopes! Is this bitch for real? I hope she does tell him and he strangles her with the sleeve of her wedding dress.

“I had an entire bottle of vodka in me” she says. Oh, well that makes everything okay then. I’m sure your money-making, hard-working fiancé would love to hear that you’re not only a dishonest, ungrateful hooker but also a drunk. Go right ahead, and tell him about your endeavors.

I just don’t understand the point of calling the radio with this shit. It’s not like it’s a woman’s talk radio and you’re surrounded by tissues as you’re calling in weeping and slobbering all over yourself because you’ve done a terrible thing that you don’t know how to cope with and you have no one else to talk to. No, you’re calling in a radio station that people listen to on their way to work. You’re giving out your name and you’re sitting there making jokes about your relationship. Vivian. What a disgrace you are.

I must say though, after she went off the air the song selection featuring all kinds of cheating references was perfect. Power 106 may not have what it takes to host a decent segment but at least their tracks are on point and relevant to what they discuss.

 

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UGH, Weddings…

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Every little girl dreams of a big white dress and a beautiful ceremony and pretty flowers and blah blah blegh. I’m so sick of the phrase “Ever since I was a little girl…”. I get it, you play with your barbie dolls and you create their lives based on the Telenovela plots you’ve been subjected to while you were staying at your grandmother’s. There’s drama involved, and there’s this and there’s that and then they overcome their troubles and get married at last. Because that’s the ultimate goal in life, right? What happens after they tie the knot and a bunch of little baby dolls appear? Does Barbie ever realize that she doesn’t have a vagina in between her dress fittings? Does Ken ever realize that he’s gay? Did your Barbie and Ken ever get a divorce because he cheated on her with Bill? If my memory serves me right there was a Bill in that dysfunctional family somewhere…

Either way, those two seem to have set a standard for girls everywhere to make it a priority to have “The Wedding”. Moving into adulthood, we stop playing with dolls and start playing with ourselves. Pun intended. Then we start playing with others and finally we find the one. Well some do, and some think they do, and some are just too eager about the act of marriage itself. So naturally the planning development starts. That’s a process in itself and is a very important aspect of “The Wedding”. Oh the options! Oh the frustrations! The term “Bridezilla” then emerges in the English language. You’ve seen the movies and the TV shows. You now feel that you must relate to all the other women that are faced with this incredibly stressful task of planning the singular most important and most incredible day of their lives. Naturally it would just be wrong to derail from the general bride-to-be’s itinerary. As expected, you start bitching and freaking out cause Oh ‘Em Gee, god forbid shit doesn’t go your way and lilac is off by a shade and that’s one too many flowers in the bouquet, and holy wedding bells, the cake is four and a half minutes late, what are we going to do…

Here’s what really boggles my mind though. So you spend all this time, picking out the venue and the perfect dress, you send out the “Save The Date” cards, and whatnot.. Then the day finally arrives, and what do you do? You make sure you remember it by taking a million pictures of course! Pose this way; pose that way; now look at her like you want to spend the rest of your lives together; now look at him like he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you; now hold her up; now stand behind her as she pretends to fall while opening her mouth just slightly and covering it with half her hand because she’s oh so scared, but you’re there to catch her; now stare off into space like you’re both looking into your future….. Can you be more generic? I get it, it looks cool and you’ll have beautiful photos from your wedding day to look through in the future, but you’re spending more time taking pictures than you’re actually enjoying each other. Isn’t that what this day is supposed to be about? Or is that reserved for “the rest of your life”? If that’s the case I guess it makes sense that you’re put to work on your actual wedding day, doing various poses and whatnot instead of being with your guests and being yourself around your now husband/wife.

And the funny thing is when I first started bartending at weddings, I thought they were beautiful. Since then, let me tell you, I’ve seen the good the bad and the ugly, mostly bad and ugly. Sure it was sentimental and adorable at first, but now it’s just so banal that it makes me want to hurl. The toasts are atrocious – There’s nothing worse than a bridesmaid who reads her toast without any emotion, and way too fast mind you. It’s as if she’s in a race with herself – who can finish first, her or her dignity. Either way, she loses. It’s just so impersonal and annoying, ugh. The introductions are too, lame and imitative. The cake is usually boring. Everything is just so rehearsed and nauseating. If it’s supposed to be the biggest day of your life (yuck, obviously, because there are so many days AFTER the wedding that are way more important), then why not make it actually memorable? And I don’t mean going extravagant because then the question of money comes in and not everyone can afford “ridiculous”. But we can all afford a little “crazy”. Have a cake that’s actually going to surprise people for once by not being BEIGE or red velvet or some shit. Wear a dress that doesn’t make you walk or sit funny. Don’t throw a bouquet of flowers; throw a bottle of Jameson instead. Change the tradition from “who’ll get married next” to “who’s definitely getting trashed tonight”. Anything! Step outside of the boundaries that the society has instilled in you, and you’ll have a chance to have a great party to celebrate your life, love, and happiness.

 

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About the Expansion of the Facebook Emojis…

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Facebook has come a long way from just putting faces next to names and connecting people to having groups and communities throughout the world. You can now message anyone you want from any location; you can change your privacy settings in an advanced way where you literally get to filter it person by person; similarly you can filter the hell out of your feed choosing what kind of content you want to see on your wall and what kind of content you want to be kept away.

Recently Facebook has acquired a new modified “Like” button. You can no longer just “Like” something, you can express yourself!

If you simply can’t contain yourself as to how much in love you are with someone’s post, there’s an icon for that – it’s a heart. You can also be all like “LOL” that’s really funny by choosing the emoji that’s clearly lolling. Similarly, if someone’s post shocks you, you can express that with an open mouth emoji that indicates “wow”. Then you stumble upon a post that asks you to donate money to save a life of a puppy or something, and “liking” it seems weird… It’s like, are you fond of the fact that there’s a dying puppy out there? Hmmm.. Well no worries, now there’s a “Sad” icon for that very purpose. Now you don’t have to feel like an insensitive piece of shit by scrolling through the dying puppy post or a lost relative; now you can contribute to the awing crowd of Facebook by expressing how sad that post makes you. Similarly, if someone posts something about how pissed off their are due to traffic or whatever, you can support them with an “Angry” emoji and be all like “yeah man, right on, I know how you feel bro! Argh, me so angry”.

Good job, Facebook. What about the “Dislike” button that people have been raving about and requesting all this time?

Common response to that is “If you ain’t got nothing nice to say, then don’t say nothing”. Well, I suppose that’s true. I can just scroll through it and move on to the posts that I do “like”. But if you’re gonna give me all these options of how I can react to a post, I want the negative stuff to be on there too! Sure it might cause some online arguing, but it doesn’t have to. We’re all adults here. I can say I disagree or don’t like something without having the need to harp on it. You’ve said your piece; it showed up on my wall because I haven’t blocked you due to generally liking your comments; I said my piece; Moving on.

You say the premise has been rejected on account that it would cause too much negativity.

I feel like the “Angry” emoji isn’t that far from dislike on a negative scale. In fact in some cases it may even be worse than a mere “Dislike”. What if your post doesn’t make me angry? What if I just don’t agree with it? Facebook needs to stop being a wimp and make the “Dislike” button an option. Worst case scenario, people are gonna go nuts and time travel back to high school with online threats, bullying and the taking shit seriously and whatnot, in which case Facebook can then remove the button and I’ll gladly accept defeat.

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Empty Promises

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“Don’t make promises you can’t keep”. Even if you try and follow that general rule, because you don’t want to be a big fat disappointment, you’re bound to break a couple promises here and there, you’re only human. At least you care. Certainly we can all agree that this world isn’t without people who couldn’t even be bothered with such nonsense as keeping their promises. In fact, I hear they rule the world. They are capable of blocking your judgment with a blanket of “I don’t give a f*ck” and not even think twice about it. It’s almost a talent of sorts, although I think it just comes naturally to them. They just blabber away making empty promises because that’s what’s convenient at that very moment. Who cares what happens when they fail to deliver, after all, they’re not affected by it. Except what if they are? How many times have we made promises to ourselves and broken them? Who becomes the bearer of judgment then? Sure you can close your eyes on someone else’s disapproval, but you can’t turn away from your own criticism.

All the times you said you wouldn’t go shopping during the holidays.
Whether it’s 4th of July or Christmas time, the prices start getting chopped up into pieces causing the masses to flock to malls and shopping centers like flies to shit. The roads become blocked with traffic, which is bad enough to begin with given the quantity of cars on the street, but happens to get even worse due to the amount of retards driving these cars. Everyone wants to go first, so they block the most inappropriate spots on the parking lot causing everyone else to just stand there, not being able to get through, which therefore causes even more unnecessary traffic. If only there was a shred of decency and common sense in every single one of those people, maybe just maybe, everyone would be able to disperse properly… But no such luck. So you’re looking for a parking spot in this zoo for what has now been 40 minutes and you think to yourself… No, I can’t go home now… That will be admitting defeat. If I leave now I will have wasted all this time for nothing. So you stick it out, and eventually you get lucky. So now you’re dealing with the same shit inside the store. Too many people bumping into one another, lines are longer than you’d like to deal with, etc. But you’re here. You got this far so you continue to suffer through it. Fast forward… You’re finally home, with a cup of hot tea and your feet snuggled up on the couch in a pair of warm fuzzy socks. And you think to yourself… Never again. You promise yourself that next year you’ll just stay home and do online shopping instead. But what happens next year? The same shit happens next year, and you end up hating everything and everyone, yourself included.

Then there are the good old hangovers.
You wake up in the morning after a fun night filled with bad decisions ruled by liquor and cigarettes; your head is pounding, and as you’re hugging the toilet you’re probably muttering something along the lines of “oh god, please, just let me get through this and I promise I will never drink again”. Who are you making that promise to? The porcelain god or yourself? The funniest thing is that after you’re done spitting up your insides, and you’ve taken a nice long nap to bring you back to normal. You’re like “Hmm, I’m thirsty, oh look, a beer”… And you completely forget about the promises you were making just a mere few hours ago, because you’re in the present now and your present self doesn’t feel so shitty anymore so who cares. Same goes for cigarettes. Perhaps you’re not a smoker. Maybe you only get the urge when you’re around people and you’re drinking. One evil accompanies the other quite well. But then you wake up and you’re coughing up your lungs to the point where those delicious burning sticks that you were shoving in your mouth the night before, are no longer looking so delicious. So naturally you catch yourself saying that you will never again smoke another cigarette. And what do you do next time you’re out drinking? You smoke another cigarette.

The toxic relationships that we enter willingly don’t and will never change.
How many times do we tell ourselves that we won’t fall for the same “type” again? And we do it every single time. We promise ourselves that we’re not going to make the same mistakes and we fall right back into the same traps and behavior patterns. The funniest thing about that too is that we always attempt to convince ourselves that this time it’ll be different.

It’s a never-ending cycle of broken promises. And if we don’t care about lying to ourselves when we make these promises then it’s no wonder we don’t feel guilty about breaking them to others.

 

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