1. There comes the point where you look at your parents and wonder if they still like eachother.

    After years of being their referee, go-between, and confidant I went to my parents this evening to give my final verdict.

    The high of a new relationship has indeed made me an insufferable ass.

    Sadly that wasn’t the verdict.

    "You two need to communicate," I went to each of them to separately so I could deliver the message tactfully.

    It is true that I have spent the greater part of 25 years trying to explain one parent to the other. I don’t know when they gave up on having conversations, but at some point I became both their friend and therapist. After a fight between the two of them I became their consoler, I was the one who knew how the had hurt the other, how they were in the right, and what they were actually trying to say eachother. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy being let in on the secret world of adults, yes it was scary, but it made me feel needed and even later became a deep seeded idea that I was key in keeping them together.

    So tonight I thought I was doing the right thing by finally offering my own thoughts on the root of their communications problems. I of course, like every good therapist, tried to maintain impartiality by pointing out the mistakes they both have made equally.

    I am of course an idiot. For nine months I have rode the high of new love; like a stoner I’m mistaking my bullshit for wisdom, like a new convert I assume what’s new to me must be new to everyone else. Idiot.

    So I said it. And my Dad said, “Nothing’s wrong,” then went back to trolling twitter on his smartphone. Andy Mom said, “Okay,” them screwed up her face to stop her from crying and waved me out of the room.

    I am a child.

     


  2. theladybrain:

    I’m sort of sunk into this depression. I had an interview with a great company, I started to daydream all the things glamorous things I’d be able to do if I got the job. Go to the dentist! Get new glasses! Repair my car!

    The interview went pretty okay, I felt like I was still in the game at the…

    Hey remember I was being a mope? No? Oh well never mind, I got the job anyways!!!!!

     


  3. The Ice Bucket challenge has become the equivalent of KONY 2012.

     

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  5. The Girl Doesn’t Have It

    I’m sort of sunk into this depression. I had an interview with a great company, I started to daydream all the things glamorous things I’d be able to do if I got the job. Go to the dentist! Get new glasses! Repair my car!

    The interview went pretty okay, I felt like I was still in the game at the end of it. But then at the end of the tour on my way out to the car I realized they didn’t ask for my references. I still had them with me.

    Death. The end. You’re. Now for that long wait for a rejection email, that in the meantime I will have twinges of both hope (that they just forgot to ask) and regret (of all the stupid things to the question “How are you technically minded?”).

    I’m really starting resent things like hope and daydreaming.

     

  6. Hugs back to you too! I guess every mom has a little Lucille Bluth in her.

     


  7. Anyone else notice the only dark skinned character in How to Train Your Dragon 2 was evil?

    It had complicated female characters, a gay viking, the possibility of a  polyamorous relationship, but it couldn’t do anything to make that Khal Drogo ripoff less problematic?

     


  8. I have a headache from holding in tears.

    I can’t sleep. I have switched sides so much, my sheets are now twisted around my ankles.

    This past April, while putting up streamers for my sister’s wedding reception, my Mom said that this was something I could never do because the rest of hated and me and would never come to my wedding. She said it like a joke, like this was something we all knew together, and that it’s sharp honesty is what made it funny.

    As a kid, your wedding is about on the same level as your prom: it’s a fantasy you have years and years to think too much about before it’s ever time to actually try on a dress. You take chunks of what you’ve seen from movies, magazines, and your experience as a wedding guest to mush it together and call it your dream. It’s not realistic of course, but neither were your expectations for prom. Most likely what’s in your head is an absurd fairy tale that will never measure up to the real day, but it was your fairy tale, tailored made for you. And that’s wonderful.

    My mother dearest has since apologized twice, but still the idea of having to plan my wedding is unpalatable. The fantasy has become a church full of empty pews and a catering table that’s hardly been touched.

    What a stupid thing to cry about.

     


  9. That moment when you realize just how insane you actually are.

    Like when you almost set the restaurant on fire.

    That’s some full blown former Mrs Rochester crazy.

     

  10. morganolivianewton:

    I like this a lot.

    (Source: gretavirginia)

     

  11. bustysaintclair So yes, we have talked about it quite a bit.

    It’s evidently common knowledge for everyone now. There was even some weirdness last night when his Dad made a joke of how I should talk to Asshole about something because I can really butter him up. That came out of nowhere.

    Beardsley feels bad and has apologized to me on multiple occasions. He says he doesn’t consider him to be a real friend and I shouldn’t pay much attention to someone that means very little to him. Bonus trivia! Not only do they live together and play together, but they have hung out since high school.

    The thing is Asshole has SO much control over his friends, I’m not sure Beardsley even realizes how much power they give him.

    He’s the one that got all of his other housemates to shun us both for violating the open door policy. And while most of dudebros are at least friendly to me now, Asshole still has considerable influence over them and Beardsley’s bandmates (Asshole is his drummer).

    In other words, Beardsley doesn’t want to mess with it too much because he’s afraid of how hard Asshole will make his life if he does.

    And quite frankly I hesitate to walk up and punch him in the scrotum only because he would start to isolate Beardsley from his own friends.

    Ugh! Life would be so much easier if I could murder.

     


  12. How do you treat a terrible person who is terrible to you?

    Beardsley’s housemate/bandmate/friend person doesn’t like me. Why? I have no fucking clue other than I violated the open door policy once before I even knew about it. Beardsley later told me Asshole didn’t speak to him for weeks after that. When he finally did acknowledge Beardsley again, it was to say that he would not be supporting our relationship.

    At the time Beardsley laughed it off. I was a little more worried. 

    On the outside Beardsley’s friends are normal looking hipsters. Asshole in particular is strategic about his appearance. He’s covered in tattoos, got a septum piercing, his haircut is expensive, and his jeans are tight. He is a posterboy for the indie crowd and all his friends look up to him.

    The thing is

    Asshole himself is a HUGE racist as in his room he has a painting titled “Run to Freedom,” that depicts African American slaves trying to out run their captors, ONLY BECAUSE HE THINKS IT’S FUNNY.

    While the racism is pretty blatant, the sex shaming is a little more subtle. You can joke about it all you want, but you can’t actually  admit to doing it. A curse on your house and your family if you do! And yet, out of 6 housemates, 4 are having sex on the regular. Guess who’s one of the two odd men out? Yep, Asshole. 

    Asshole is very concerned about his friends “purity”. Asshole polices the open door policy. Asshole even declared that he wouldn’t make out with his own girlfriend for at least a year, just prove he’s a pure guy. Yeah, that didn’t last long.

    Asshole’s dad is also a pastor at a major church here. That’s just a detail I think really adds richness to how terrible he is. 

    And so I have been weighed and found wanton. My punishment is that I  do not exist for Asshole, and he lets me know that by literally pretending I don’t exist. If I come into a room he will not acknowledge me. and a few times he has even left the room. 

    However there is one exception to his silent treatment: if his girlfriend is with him, he will say words at me. I guess Asshole doesn’t want his girlfriend to know he’s an asshole — even though she probably does and is, I suspect, sort of an asshole herself since she must have seen the painting.

    So what to do? Do I give him the silent treatment right back? Be aggressively nice to him? Can I take the low road and find away to needle him? Advice?

     

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  15. two4fit:

    Tabloid headlines without the sexism

    (via thefrogman)